More Than You Seem
by saturdayslump
Summary: Emily discovers that Hotch's girlfriend is more than what she seems. What happens when they confront her? Rated M for some poorly written sexual content.


**Hey! So, I've been working on this damn story forever... or at least it seems that way. This is my entry to the Hotly (Tigereye & Tigerlily, you both kill me!) forum Psycho Beth challenge. Hilariously, I intended this to be about 3,000 words... Yeah, that didn't happen. I can't say that I am 100% happy with this, but I don't want to spend forever picking at it. Also, I want to apologize upfront for the smut. I will never write it again. Seriously. OMG. I have no problems reading (or imagining) all that smutty goodness, but I can't write it for damn.**

**Disclaimer: If you don't know that I don't own Criminal Minds... well, I don't think there's really any help for you at this point. Also, dear CBS and ABC, please don't sue me. I have no money and can't even pay my student loans.**

**Thanks to everyone who pre-read this for me. You're all angels and someday Tinkerbell will sprinkle you with pixie dust in thanks.**

* * *

Emily Prentiss had been staring at her boss' office all day. She knew she needed to tell him, but she had no idea what to say or how he'd take the news. Although she and Hotch hadn't always had the easiest relationship, she thought they'd evolved into friends and she was almost deathly afraid of what this would do to their relationship. He had been something of a rock for her since her return from Europe. He knew she hadn't been doing as well as she pretended, knew she'd lied to her therapist. Instead of bullying her into opening up, Aaron Hotchner had made a gentle, solemn offer of help whenever she needed it. And, god, how she had. She was able to admit to him about her nightmares, her fear, her uncertainty about her place in the team. He had listened; offered advice based on his own traumatic experiences, and soothed her sometimes uncontrollable nerves. He'd also been the one to suggest she meet with a counselor that specialized in post-traumatic stress disorder. Since then, she'd been making her way slowly back to her normal. The trust and friendship that had developed, especially over the last few months, was precious to her. Emily didn't think there was anyone she trusted as much as she trusted Hotch. She wasn't sure she could survive losing her friend.

She knew this news was going to devastate him… assuming he believed her. _Maybe I should run it by Dave first_, she thought before peeking up from her files to see if David Rossi was still in his office. The light was on, so Emily decided to suck up her courage and talk with him. On the catwalk in front of Dave's office, she knocked on the doorframe.

"Hey, Dave. You got a minute?" she asked.

"Sure, Emily. What's up?" When she didn't say anything, just closed the door behind her, Dave rose an eyebrow. "That good, huh?" he said with a slight smile.

"I need your help. And I don't know what to do," Emily told him.

The worry in her voice got Dave's immediate attention. "Anything, kiddo, you know that."

"Do you remember Senator Cramer?"

"Yeah, the jerk from the Senate hearings. What about him?"

"I think Hotch's girlfriend is working for him."

"What?"

"I think she's spying on us. Definitely on Hotch and reporting it back to Cramer.

"Emily, that's…"

"Crazy? Yeah, I know. But it doesn't change what I've seen and heard."

"OK. Why don't you start from the beginning," Rossi told her.

"Right. OK, so you remember when we all met Beth when she picked Hotch up at the airstrip when his car was in the shop? Well, I saw her again the next day. She was having dinner with Senator Cramer."

"Maybe she was schmoozing to get money for the museum she works for. He's a politician who can grease some wheels for funding."

"She doesn't work for a museum, Dave."

"What?"

"I know this is going to sound crazy… but after I saw her with Cramer, I kind of started looking into her."

"Emily…"

"I know. It sounds so paranoid. But sometimes it helps me calm my nerves and remind myself that not everyone's out to get me or that they aren't all bad people."

"Who else have you run?"

"My drycleaner. The girl who waters my plants and feeds Sergio when I'm away on a case. A cab driver, one of the mailroom clerks… Anderson…"

"You actually ran a check on Anderson?"

Emily had the good grace to look abashed. "Yeah, that was early on, just after I'd gotten back. He's squeaky clean. He could probably use a little help with the ladies though."

"Don't look at me," Dave told her with a grin. "Now, tell me about Beth."

"Right. So, about three days after I first saw her having dinner with Cramer, I saw her having dinner with him again. They were at a restaurant near where I was meeting my mother."

"You had dinner with your mom?" Rossi asked incredulously.

"Yes, and she was pissed because I was late. I waited for Beth to leave the restaurant. I wanted to get her tag number."

"Jesus," Rossi said, shaking his head at Emily.

Emily closed her eyes and shook her head ruefully. "I know, Dave. I know it sounds, and is, crazy. Anyway, I got her tag and was able to follow her for a few days."

"OK, what happened?"

"She was meeting Cramer within about thirty-six hours of a date or whatever with Hotch. It's too much to be a coincidence, Dave."

"You're right. But right now, we don't really know anything yet. How long has this been going on?"

"I've been watching her for about four weeks."

"You waited that long?" he asked, impressed by her restraint.

"Yeah, I thought it was the paranoia. I still have some problems with PTSD, and paranoia is one of them."

"We need to talk to Garcia," Dave told her.

"Don't you think we should tell Hotch?"

"Tell him what? That you've been following around his girlfriend for the last month?"

"Right. That does sound bad."

"We need to get Garcia to help tracking Beth, see what she can dig up on her."

"OK."

"Let's go. Might as well do it now."

Emily sighed. "I guess."

Penelope Garcia's techno-hole was relatively subdued when Emily and Dave knocked on her door. She only had four screens running data.

"Hey!" she piped up from behind one of the active monitors.

Dave closed the door and Garcia frowned. This was not going to be good. "Guys? What's going on?"

"Pen, what we're about to tell you can't leave this room. OK? Nothing. You can't say anything to anyone. Not Morgan, not Kevin. No one. Not until we give you the go ahead. Do you understand?" Emily asked.

"You guys are scaring me," Garcia confessed.

"You need to promise, Penelope. We know you won't break a promise," Dave told her.

"I promise. Oh my god, are you guys OK?" she demanded.

"It's not us, PG, it's Hotch," Emily responded.

"Hotch? But… Hotch is Hotch. He wouldn't be in trouble."

"He doesn't know about this. Let me start at the beginning," Emily told her. As she spoke, Emily gauged Garcia's reactions. She noted PG's initial concern for her mental health, which rapidly morphed into disbelief, and then into righteous fury.

"Are you saying that… that whore in pigtails is seeing Hotch so she can spy on us?" Garcia demanded in indignation.

"I think so. But we need your help in proving it," Emily explained.

"Oh, you will so see some magic happening here," Garcia promised in furious glee. "If she's working with that jerk, I will find out and bury her. I can't believe she would do this to him! And he just started dating again!"

Rossi chimed in, "I'm surprised you haven't already run her, Penelope. Considering you ran Will, Austin, Jordan, Seaver, and every woman Morgan's ever mentioned."

Garcia blushed. "I'm trying to do better. Plus, it's Hotch. He kind of scares me. It would be like your dad finding you sneaking out… or in."

Emily grinned at that, but then her smile faded. Hotch was going to be pissed when he found out what they were doing. They were violating his privacy. But he needed to be told about Beth as soon as possible, and Emily knew they would need as much information as possible supporting their position. Hotch could be unbelievably stubborn, almost as stubborn as her. Plus, Emily was aware that he liked Beth. His personal feelings were going to make this that much more difficult.

Sobered by these thoughts, Emily asked Garcia, "Is there anything you need us to do?"

"Not just yet. I may need you guys to bug her house though."

"PG!" Emily exclaimed.

"What? Do you want to help Hotch or not? I can do a lot of stuff from here, but if she's doing anything from home, we'll need that info, too. You know Hotch, Emily. We'll need every scrap of proof we can get."

Emily sighed again. "I know."

* * *

_**Friday - Two weeks later**_

The team, minus Hotch, was assembled in the conference room. They had decided to have one final conversation before Emily approached Hotch with the information they had gathered. Since Em had gone to Dave, the entire team had been told what was going on and they had jumped into action. Aside from the worry about what Beth may have been passing on to Cramer, they were all furious on Hotch's behalf. It was the first time they'd seen their supervisor happy in years, and this was going to devastate him. They could only hope he didn't retreat to the grim BAU Unit Chief he'd become since Gideon had left and Haley had died.

"Are we sure we're ready for this?" Emily asked one more time.

Each of her friends and colleagues nodded their confirmation. Morgan was the only one who spoke up, "You know we have to, Princess."

Emily sighed once again. She'd been doing that a lot since she'd first talked to Dave. They had decided that since she was the one who'd found out about Beth, she should be the one to tell Hotch. She wasn't looking forward to it. In fact, "dread" was an understatement.

Before Emily could push back from the conference table, Garcia spoke up. "I'm still not sure about these weird holes in her background. I couldn't track down a couple of her exes and she's got that sealed juvie record I couldn't get into."

"We don't need those, Garcia," Reid argued. He was pissed on Hotch's behalf, but nervous about how this would unfold. To him, waiting any longer would be torture. He didn't like keeping these kinds of secrets from Hotch, a man he respected and admired. But Reid was a realist. He was very much aware that his supervisor would unbelievably angry.

"No, we're not waiting any longer," Emily asserted before picking up the file they had put together. It contained two weeks of information they had accumulated through background checks, surveillance, casual interviews with previous boyfriends, and Garcia's computer hacking. Resolutely, she left the conference room, her teammates staring at her as she departed. When she reached the door to Hotch's office, Emily squared her shoulders before knocking.

"Come in," she heard her boss say before she took a deep breath and followed the order. As she re-closed the door, Emily cast one last glance at the conference room and her friends. At Rossi's small nod, she shut the door completely and prepared to piss off her boss.

Aaron Hotchner looked up from the stacks of reports in front of him. He was a good looking man. Despite being nearly 50 years old, he was fit and strong, with a rangy physique maintained through his strict triathlon training regime. Amazingly, he had maintained his compassion after more than a decade with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Hotch smiled briefly at his subordinate before noticing the file in her hands.

"Have you finished the Walker report already?" he asked.

"Uh… no. Nearly, but there are a couple of details I need to follow up on." Emily told him, grateful for the brief reprieve. But Hotch had been a profiler too long to miss the odd tone of her voice. He frowned at his subordinate, focusing on the lines that bracketed her mouth and the way she picked at her nails.

"Emily, is everything ok?" he asked, concerned. It had been a while since her last bad day. He'd been glad to talk her through it, and, as he'd promised her, he'd be there to listen again if she was having another one.

"No. I mean, I've actually been doing pretty well recently. It's not that. It's just… Um… Hotch, I need to talk to you about something else."

"Certainly. You know you can talk to me about anything, Emily."

"I hope that's true," she mumbled.

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing. I don't really know how to tell you this."

"Emily, whatever's wrong, you can tell me," Hotch told her, beginning to worry about whatever she was planning to say.

"It's not about me, Hotch, I'm fine," she assured him.

"Then I don't understand. What's wrong?"

"Hotch… it's about Beth."

"I'm sorry?" he stiffened.

"Jesus. I don't want to do this…"

Hotch's worry morphed into displeasure. Where he'd previously been concerned and friendly, he was suddenly stern and cold. "Emily, we're colleagues and friends, but my personal life really isn't your concern," Hotch told her, slowly becoming angry by the turn in the conversation.

"Oh my god, Hotch, I swear it isn't like that!"

"Then why don't you tell me what it is." It was an order, not a request.

"OK. Do you remember when you introduced us to Beth at the airfield?"

"Yes."

"I saw her again right after that."

"And?"

"She was having dinner with Senator Cramer, Hotch."

"He has a say in determining funding for the arts, Prentiss. It's not surprising that she would take him to dinner."

Emily noticed his use of her last name, absorbed the emotional blow his name change landed, and steeled herself to continue with the conversation. "She didn't pick up the check, Hotch. And she hasn't paid him for the six other meals they've shared, or the nine coffees they've had together. It also doesn't explain why she goes to his Congressional office every day after she's been with you."

"You've been following her?" Hotch thundered.

"Hotch," Emily started to explain.

"I think you need to leave my office. Now."

This was worse than she had anticipated. Instead of the molten fury she'd been prepared to battle, Hotch stood behind his impenetrable, cold rage. Emily opened her mouth to protest his insinuations then thought better of it. Hotch had monumental control, but everyone had a breaking point. She held out the file she carried. "Please, Hotch. Just look at this. Please." When he only glared, she set the file on his desk then quickly left his office.

When she emerged from Hotch's office, Emily noticed her teammates spread out at various desks. JJ and Reid were perched on their respective chairs, Morgan lounged on her desk while Garcia sat in her chair, and Dave was leaning against Reid's desk. It was obvious that they had all been waiting for her to leave from Hotch's office. Emily made it to her desk, grabbed her bag and jacket.

"Oh no," Garcia wailed, "he fired you!"

"No, Pen, but I think it's a good idea if I take off," Emily said keeping her eyes off her teammates. Hotch's unspoken accusations had hurt and she was afraid she might actually breakdown and cry in front of her friends if she met their curious gazes.

"How angry is he?" Dave asked.

"On a scale of 1-10? Probably about 312," Emily told him. "He's unsurprisingly pissed at the fact that I've been snooping into his private life."

"He said that?" Rossi asked.

"It was implied."

"What do we do now?" JJ asked.

"Nothing," Emily told her.

"But…" JJ started, while Garcia objected, "Em, we can't…"

"No, you guys. We told him. What happens next is up to him. OK, I'm heading out. I'll see you guys Monday," Emily said as she headed for the exit.

"Night, Em," they called to her as she left the bullpen.

"Are we really not going to do anything else?" Reid asked.

"No, I'll take care of it," Dave told them. "You guys head home. I seriously doubt you want to be here when he starts yelling." He waited until they'd all gone before he went to his friend's office. He entered without knocking and saw the file resting where he presumed Emily had placed it. Aaron studiously ignored its presence.

"Stop being a jackass, Aaron."

"Were you aware she was poking into my private life, Dave?"

"No, I wasn't. I was aware that she was investigating Beth, and I encouraged her to dig deeper when she came to me with her concerns several weeks ago."

"You participated in this?"

"Don't start that crap with me, Hotch. I've known you too long. Just shut up and listen because you need to hear what I have to say. This isn't about you. It's about the team. It's about me, and Morgan, and Reid, JJ, Garcia, Emily, and even Strauss. She's Cramer's mole. Have you even bothered to look at the information? She's feeding him information to bury us all, including you!"

"You don't know that," Hotch started to argue.

"Yes, Aaron, I do. Because I've read the files. I've seen the information from Beth's computer, from her bank records, all of it. She's Cramer's mole."

"That's beside the point, Dave."

"No, it's exactly the point. You know Emily and the kind of person she is. You know she would never poke in your personal life. And she didn't here. She didn't do anything beyond surface checks and standard surveillance until she'd spoken with me, until I told her we needed more information before we came to you. Every time we ran a check on Beth, Emily was the most scrupulous in making sure you weren't a part of it. She wouldn't want people parading through her private life, and she afforded you the same respect and courtesy. She was worried, Hotch, about more than her career. She was worried about you – about how this would affect you. Because she knows, maybe better than the rest of us, that such a violation of trust leaves scars deeper than the ones Foyet gave you. She didn't want this to be true. But it is. And she's trying to protect you."

"Are you finished?" Hotch seethed.

"Yeah, I'm finished. Pull your head out of your ass and read the file, Aaron. And after you do, don't forget to apologize to Emily." Rossi stormed out, letting Hotch's office door slam shut behind him.

Unable to concentrate further, Hotch gathered up a handful of files to work on over the weekend, shoving them into his briefcase. He rounded his desk, fully intending to leave Emily's file where she'd placed it. He reached up to turn off the desk lamp, and before he could change his mind, grabbed the file and crammed it into his briefcase with the others. He stalked out of his office and the BAU, looking forward to a weekend with his son.

_**Sunday**_

When the knock sounded on her door just after noon, Emily Prentiss was rummaging in her kitchen for something to eat. She'd had a pleasant day – she'd deemed it a pajama day – and had loafed around with Sergio, who'd gotten over his initial pissiness with her recently busy travel and surveillance schedule. They'd curled up in an overstuffed armchair reading, or napping in Sergio's case. It was the first truly relaxing day Emily had had since learning Ian Doyle had escaped from prison more than a year before. Niggles of doubt occasionally crept into her mind about Hotch and how things would be between them the next day, but when she felt her shoulders tighten up, she would take a deep, slow breath and force herself to relax.

So when she gazed through the peephole and discovered who was intruding on her tranquility, Emily was stunned. Hotch was just outside her door. Her previous contentment shattered and she felt her muscles tense, readying themselves for an emotional confrontation that she feared would do irreparable damage to her relationship with her friend. His usual suit traded for jeans and a green polo.

"Emily, please open the door," he pleaded.

With a quick glance around to make sure her apartment wasn't a disaster, Emily opened the door. It took less than five seconds for her to realize that Hotch had read her file. Anger, guilt, and sorrow were etched across his face. Without a word, Emily stepped back, letting him into her home, a place she allowed few access. Hotch entered then watched as she closed, locked, and re-chained her door. Hotch recognized the hyper vigilance; he'd been that way since Foyet.

When she turned to him, Emily's face was carefully blank. The mask of polite curiosity she'd developed in childhood firmly in place. At that moment, Emily considered Hotch an unknown element. She had no idea why he was there – it could have been anything and she had no idea how he would react. She really wasn't up for another emotional beating, so she watched him warily, and hated herself, and him, a little bit for it. Since her return, Emily had counted on her boss more than any other of her colleagues. He not only fully accepted her back on the team, but he'd also never held it against her that she'd kept her past work a secret. Moreover, he understood her, what she had gone through and continued to go through. He listened on her bad days, offered support and friendship – something she'd never thought would happen with him she began working with the BAU. That she watched him now, wary of what he might do, sickened her. But she needed to get this – whatever it was – over.

"What is it, Hotch?" she asked calmly. The flat tone surprised her. She was sure her nerves, the pounding of her heart, would be reflected in her voice.

He opened his mouth, then snapped it closed without saying anything. He sighed hugely then rubbed the bridge of his nose as if a headache pounded just behind that spot. Hotch closed his eyes and when he opened them again, he looked at his subordinate with absolute contrition.

"Emily, I am so sorry," he said simply.

Emily felt herself deflate at his apology and she ached at the misery in Hotch's voice. He'd been a complete ass to her, but she hadn't wanted to hurt him. She had known the discovery of Beth's treachery and his acknowledgement of how he'd treated her on Friday would make Hotch miserable.

"Why don't you go sit down, Hotch, and I'll get us something to drink."

"Yeah, OK."

When Hotch wandered off to the living room, Emily dashed back to her bedroom. There was no way she could have this conversation in her pajamas. Also, she wasn't wearing a bra. Her support camisole was fine for pajama days, but not while Hotch was there. She quickly changed into the clothes she'd worn the day before – jeans and a dark purple, v-neck t-shirt with proper undergarments. She decided to stay barefoot and a silver ring gleamed at her from her left foot. When she'd finished dressing and pulling her hair back into a ponytail, Emily detoured back through the kitchen for coffee before heading to the living room and Hotch.

He wasn't sitting. Instead, Hotch had stationed himself in front of the large windows overlooking DC from the apartment's position in northern Virginia. It was one of Emily's favorite views, and a big reason for choosing the apartment when she'd resumed her life months ago. Emily approached him, careful to make enough noise to not startle him from his reverie.

"Here," she offered. "It's not especially fresh, but it's not too terrible."

"Thanks," Hotch said, taking the mug she offered. He didn't look at her as he began to speak. "I'm sorry, Emily. I should have known that you wouldn't invade my privacy."

"It's OK, Hotch. I think we both know I would have acted worse if it had been me in your position," she told him ruefully.

Hotch smiled briefly before the spark of humor died. "This is just… I'm so embarrassed."

"What? Why?"

"Because I believe her. I invited her into my life and I didn't see it. I'm a profiler and I didn't see that every moment, everything she said and did was a lie. I've put us all at risk because I enjoyed her company, because it was nice to spend time with a woman again. Jesus, Emily, I can't… how am I supposed to trust my own judgment now? How are any of you?"

"Hotch, no. In no way possible is this your fault. None of us blame you. You have feelings for her and she used them against you. It happens to everyone. Even to profilers. Please, sit down. We'll figure out what to do."

Despite her offer, Hotch couldn't sit. His agitation was too much for him to be immobile. He began pacing, prowling restlessly around the room, as if he needed to be in motion to get through the conversation. "I read your file, Emily. I could tell that you went out of your way to protect my privacy, and probably my career."

"It isn't anything you haven't already done for me," she reminded him. Hotch stopped moving, and for a moment they stood together silently. Then Emily began with the hardest part of the conversation. "Hotch… what do you want to do?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. I'm having a hard time getting past the betrayal to think about how to handle this."

"Don't let them do this to you, Hotch."

"I think you mean us."

"Yes, but it's you they targeted. You're the one they're using. Don't let them make you doubt yourself."

"I'm trying. Really. I think if I can get past this and be angry about it I'll be OK. It's just getting there that's the trouble."

Emily began to speak, but before she could offer him any reassurance, her cell phone rang. At the ringtone, she sighed. "Hold on. That's Garcia. If I don't answer it, she'll just keep calling." Emily moved back into the kitchen, answered the call, and headed back to the living room.

"Hey, Garcia… What? No, I… Hold on, Hotch is here. He should hear this too." When she was back in the living room, she put her cell on speaker so her unit chief could hear the perky tech analyst as well. "You're on speaker, PG," Emily told her.

"OK, so… um…"

"Just say it, Penelope. I won't be mad," Hotch told her.

"Yes, sir. So, when we started looking into Beth, I hacked into her computer and planted a program that basically allowed me to monitor her activity," Garcia explained. "We weren't watching everything she was doing, sir, but we…" she rushed to assure him.

"I know, Garcia," Hotch reassured her. "I know you were careful to monitor only the things she did to investigate the team."

"Right. Well, the program I set up is essentially a key word search and she's digging on the key words."

"What key words, Pen?" Emily asked.

"They're names, actually. Jack Hotchner, Henry Lamontagne… and Declan, Emily."

"What?" Emily whispered.

"What is she looking at, Garcia?" Hotch asked, the cold fury obvious in his voice.

"She accessing school records, pediatric files, psychologist reports, things like that."

"She's investigating our children?" Hotch seethed.

"Yes. The schools don't have extensive cyber security and she's got basic hacking skills. Sir, from what I can tell, she's also looked into Reid's mom, Morgan's life in Chicago, my parents and foster parents, Will, Haley, and all of Rossi's ex-wives."

"Hotch," Emily gasped, "they're going after everyone's families."

"No, they're not. Garcia, do you still have access to Beth's system?"

"Yes, sir."

"Can you copy her hard drive from there?"

"Absolutely."

"What about Cramer? Can you get into his system as well?"

"Yes, sir. His computers are a little more tricky, but I can do it."

"Do it then. And then fry their hard drives."

"Sir?"

"Kill their computers, Penelope. Do whatever you need to do to make sure they won't be able to use them again."

"Yes, sir. With extreme pleasure," the analyst chortled. Her delight at the assignment was palpable.

"Let the team know we're going to meet at 8:00 a.m. tomorrow, before our regular case briefing. Don't tell them anything about this, Garcia. You and I will discuss it tomorrow before the meeting and then I'll tell the others."

"OK. Sir, there's something else."

"What is it?"

"She's got… weird stuff on her computer."

"What kind of weird stuff?"

"I don't know how to describe it, except creepy weird."

"OK, we'll go over it tomorrow. For now, send everything she's looked at on Emily and me to Emily's computer."

"Will do. Bye!"

When Emily disconnected the call, she looked over at Hotch. "I guess you found your mad."

Several hours later, Hotch marveled at what he and Emily had reviewed. "A lot of the information Beth's accumulated had to come from Cramer," Hotch said. "There's no way she would have been able to access all of this data on Ian Doyle without help." Hotch didn't notice Emily's slight flinch at the name. She hated when Doyle's name came up.

"I can't believe Cramer's doing this. And I don't understand why. What's his motivation here? So, he shuts down our team. So what? What's in it for him?"

"I don't know," Hotch told her. "And at this point, I don't care. He was done the minute he started looking into our families. I need to get home, get Jack ready for his trip to his grandparents' in the morning. Will you be OK tonight?"

"Of course I will," Emily responded without thinking.

Hotch just looked at her. "Emily… how are you really doing with all this?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I feel responsible for this. Hell, I am responsible for this. If it hadn't been for my past with Doyle, none of you would be going through this."

Hotch held up his hand to stop her from continuing. "This is not your fault, Emily. You had a job to do and you did it. Do I wish you'd come to me when everything began with Doyle? Yes, I do. But I also understand your reasoning for doing what you did. I can't honestly say that I would have done anything differently if I'd been in your position. Doyle would have killed us to get to you. In any event, none of that matters. Cramer is out of line with this investigation. And that doesn't even go into the hypocrisy of his actions. I will **not** let him threaten this team or our families. We'll stop this together. OK?"

Emily, who'd been staring a little slack-jawed at her supervisor during his emotional declaration, just nodded. Her relief at having his support again was nearly overwhelming. After her return, he'd been a good friend as well as her unit chief. The potential loss of that bond had worried her. But it appeared that Hotch was firmly in her corner again, and she wasn't sure he'd ever really left it.

Emily helped him pack the files back into his briefcase before walking him to the door. "Tell Jack I said hello," she said with a small smile.

"I will. And try not to dwell on this. Get some sleep tonight. This is going to be a long battle," he instructed her. He turned toward the door then stopped unexpectedly. "Emily… I am sorry. For not listening, for thinking the worst of you. I know you better than that. You value privacy and loyalty too much to have done what I accused. I'm sorry. I hope that my initial reaction doesn't make it more difficult for you to trust me in the future."

"Hotch, of course not. I'm sorry I had to be the one to tell you about Beth and I understand your reaction. There isn't anything to forgive."

"Are we good?" he asked.

She nodded and gave him a genuine smile, "Yes."

"Good," he said. The he bent forward, surprising her by pressing a quick, soft kiss to her cheek before leaving. "Night," he called as he closed the door behind him.

* * *

As he stood in front of his BAU agents the following morning, Aaron Hotchner felt like a fool. He'd liked Beth. She'd been smart, funny, and hadn't minded his job. Of course, now he knew why she'd seemed so great. She'd been using him, spying on him and his colleagues for that asshole senator. God only knew what information she'd already told him. Hotch was a circumspect man, so he hadn't shared much with Beth. But now he had to worry about every conversation they'd ever had and how the oversight committee would perceive it.

Looking into the faces of his agents, Hotch had no clue what to say to them. These people trusted him with their lives, with their well-being, and he'd been a Trojan horse, the means by which their privacy had been invaded.

He took a deep breath before he spoke. "I want to apologize to all of you. Your privacy, your families' privacy, has been breached and I was the means by which it happened."

Six voices erupted in sharp disagreement, each arguing against his statement. They spoke over one another in vocal defiance of his attempt to accept blame.

"Thank you, but I brought Beth in and she's been using me to get access to all of you. But we're going to stop this before it goes any further. Garcia, did you get Cramer's computer?"

"I did, all of them since he's a bit dim and uses the same password for everything."

"And you destroyed all of the hard drives?"

"With enormous satisfaction, sir!" she quipped.

"Good. Considering what we know, I'm going to have to take this to Strauss," Hotch told them.

"Hotch, man, are you sure?" Morgan asked.

"She has a right to know. She supported this team when Emily returned and Cramer's out to burn her along with the rest of us. Plus, with her situation, it's best to keep on top of things. Bringing her in will allow her to keep an eye on things here if we have to leave town for a case."

"Hotch is right," Emily spoke up. "Strauss is in a much more precarious position than the rest of us. She needs to be told. She's gone to bat for us, supported the things we've done. That could come back to haunt her. I don't think we have the right to keep it from her."

Most of the team nodded at Emily's logic. But Morgan continued to argue his point. "I don't disagree with you, but with her issues, she might be more of a liability."

"Her issues, as you call them," Reid said, "also make her more vulnerable to whatever Cramer's planning. She's taking steps to help herself. It would be to our advantage to present this to her. It supports her recovery to show we trust her. It also keeps this from backfiring. If she finds out we knew Cramer was looking at her and didn't say anything, she be just as angry, maybe more so, with us."

"But with her addiction," Morgan started, "she could backslide, start drinking again, or just decide to side with Cramer to save her own ass."

"Backsliding is a potential problem for all addicts, Morgan. Not just Strauss. Besides, telling her will give us some cover for what we're doing – which is illegal," Reid reminded his teammate.

"Morgan, I'm going to tell Strauss," Hotch told him, putting an end to the debate. "If you want to keep an eye on her, then do it. But you might want to take the time to talk to her. Then you can decide for yourself how much to trust her," Hotch offered him.

"Alright," Morgan agreed.

"Now, I've asked Garcia to send each of you the information Beth and Cramer had gathered so far on you and your families. Look through everything and find out if there's anything we need to follow up on or be worried about. If there is anything, please let me know. Whatever has happened will be handled with absolute discretion." Hotch paused to look over his subordinates, but no one looked particularly worried about anything that would be uncovered. "Unless we're needed out of town, we'll meet back here tomorrow at 8:00 a.m. to discuss the next steps. Emily, Dave, I'd like you to speak to Strauss with me."

An hour later, Hotch, Dave, and Emily returned to the bullpen from their meeting with Strauss. Each wore a stunned expression. Hotch nodded toward the conference room and the other agents followed the trio up. Emily called Garcia and they waited anxiously for her arrival. Once Garcia was settled, Hotch smiled at them.

"To say Strauss is unhappy would be an understatement."

"I don't think I've ever heard anyone use language like that before," Emily said.

"Me either," echoed Rossi, "and I was in the Army." He grinned at his recollection of Strauss' fury. She'd let loose a stream of invective fierce enough to have singed the ears off a drunken sailor.

"She's given her full support to whatever we decide to do. So, at this point, we need a game plan."

"They must know that we know," Reid put in.

"Why?" Morgan asked.

"Hotch told Garcia to destroy their computers. It's an enormous coincidence that the computers of both parties to an illegal, covert investigation of an FBI unit are destroyed at the same time and in the same manner. The probability is infinitesimally small. Additionally, if you factor in that one of the people they're investigating is an accomplished computer hacker, the odds of it being a coincidence diminish even more."

"So, what you're saying is we've tipped our hand to them and they probably already know we're on to them," JJ commented.

"Yes," Reid said.

"What's to keep them from moving forward with whatever they have planned?" JJ asked.

"They've been discovered. They have to know we'll leak what they've done. They're probably trying to figure out a way to cover their tracks," Hotch told them. "I'm going to confront Beth. We're supposed to have dinner tonight, but I think there's going to be a change of plans."

"You should take someone with you," Rossi told him.

"Why?"

"You're about to confront the woman who's been spying on you for weeks. Take someone to back up your version of events."

Garcia jumped on the bandwagon, "I agree, sir. I still can't figure out what's going on with these holes in Beth's background. It's like some of her exes totally disappeared from the face of the Earth. But also, her sealed juvie record is seriously messed up."

"What do you mean?" Emily asked.

"Well, it looks like she pled to malicious mischief and vandalism, but they required her to go to counseling."

"That's not particularly surprising, Penelope," Morgan said. "A lot of courts give juveniles counseling as a diversion technique. You know, help them talk through whatever's causing them to act out or address any issues at home. It's pretty common for first time juvenile offenders."

"Yeah, but that wasn't the case with her," Garcia insisted. "If you read between the lines of the PA's report and the cops' notes, Beth was someone they had gotten a fair number of complaints about by the time they finally arrested her for setting her ex's new girlfriend's car on fire. Apparently, she was violent and possessive about her boyfriends, and lashed out whenever the boys broke up with her. Smashing car windows, harassing phone calls, stalking, the whole nine yards. And the counselor they sent her to? He was a psychiatrist who kept her pretty heavily medicated until she was 18 and out from under his supervision."

"Jesus. So she's a psycho stalker and a spy? Great. Good going, Hotch, you really picked a winner," Morgan teased.

Hotch glared at the younger man, but he began to see the wisdom of Garcia's and Dave's insistence that he take a witness… or maybe backup. "I wonder if that's what's going on here. She may have formed some kind of obsessional relationship with Cramer and is helping him out of a bizarre idea of assisting her lover."

"I never saw any indication that they were romantically involved. But you could be right. Maybe this is some form of erotomania," Emily said. She turned to Hotch. "Since I was the one who discovered what was going on, I'll go with you tonight when you speak to her," Emily offered.

"Are you sure? This could get ugly."

"Yes. It might help later on if you have a woman backing up your version of events," Emily told Hotch. JJ nodded her agreement at that.

"OK. I'll see everyone back here before our regular briefing at 10:00."

* * *

When Hotch and Emily arrived at Beth's brownstone in Georgetown, they sat in the SUV without getting out of the car.

"Hotch?" Emily asked after they'd been silent for several minutes.

"I'm not sure how to approach this," he confessed to her.

"Chances are, she's already aware someone's on to her. She's probably got an excuse ready."

"If it was you, how would you handle it?"

"What?"

"If you were in my position, what would you do?"

"I would run. But you already know that."

"Don't do that, Prentiss. You didn't run. You stopped letting Doyle make you a victim and went after him – to keep us safe. That's not running."

Emily absorbed his words and thought for a moment. "If I were you, I would just confront her, be upfront. She's not dumb. She's going to know something's up because of the computers and I'm here with you. But be careful and don't accuse Cramer of anything. If she really is fixated on him, she'll do and say whatever she thinks is necessary to protect or help him."

Hotch nodded his agreement with her assessment. "OK," he said before exiting the vehicle.

Hotch had barely pushed the bell when the door swung open. Beth stood in the glow of light from her home, grinning for all the world like there was nothing wrong. Hotch was flabbergasted by her attitude. He was not expecting this reaction.

"Aaron, you're early! I wasn't expecting you for another hour! Where's Jack?"

"May we come in, Beth?" Hotch asked, stepping to the side and revealing Emily's presence behind him. Beth's smile faded, her happy look immediately darkening into displeasure.

"I suppose," she told Hotch, then stepped back to allow them entry. "What's going on, Aaron? Why is she here?"

"Agent Prentiss is here with me to ask you some questions regarding your relationship with Senator Cramer."

"Who?"

Emily stepped forward, offering Beth a photo from the file she carried. "Senator Cramer, Ms. Clemmons. I believe you met with him a number of times over the last few weeks."

Beth looked down at the picture of Cramer and herself having dinner. "Oh! Senator Cramer is considering some additional funding for the National Gallery of Art. I took him to dinner to campaign for it."

"But you don't work for the National Gallery of Art, Ms. Clemmons," Emily said. "Why would you be campaigning on its behalf?" she inquired politely.

Beth looked at Hotch, who said nothing. He continued to stare at her impassively, but Emily could see how tightly his jaw was clenched.

"I was doing a favor for another curator. What is this about, Aaron?"

"You're not a curator, Beth. You don't work for any museum in D.C., Virginia, or Maryland," he told her.

"What are you talking about? Of course I'm a curator, Aaron," Beth responded, reaching for his arm.

Hotch evaded her touch, stepping quickly to the side, unconsciously aligning himself with Emily. Beth scowled taking in the brunette pair.

"Is she the one that's been filling your head with this nonsense?"

"I'm concerned about your relationship with Senator Cramer, Ms. Clemmons. I would appreciate your explaining your frequent contact with him over the last eight weeks," Emily said.

"How can you listen to anything she tells you! She lied to you for years. She whored herself for a job!" Beth shouted. The accusation cut Emily to the bone, but she kept her cool, composed façade while Beth raged. "She's just trying to get back into your good graces!"

"That's something else we need to discuss. How did you come into possession of classified information related to Agent Prentiss' work with the CIA?" Hotch asked.

Beth opened her mouth, but Hotch rolled over her. "Why are you investigating my team, Beth? Did you think I wouldn't find out? You looked into each of us and our families! What are you and Cramer up to?" Hotch demanded.

"Aaron, no, please. I'm trying to protect you. I love you! It's this slut, filling your head with lies about me. I know you were with her for hours yesterday. Did she sleep with you?" Beth rounded on Emily. "Did you sleep with him? Trying to fuck your way into position? That's what you did before. It's what you always do. Fuck and flirt to get ahead!" Beth shouted. She brought her hand back, but before she could follow through with the slap, Hotch snagged her wrist.

"I will have you prosecuted for assaulting a federal officer if you touch her," Hotch promised. Emily had moved into a defensive stance, ready to repel any attack Beth might make. He noticed that she remained alert, although Beth jerked out of Hotch's hold and stalked a few yards from them. "What does Cramer want, Beth?" Hotch demanded.

"I don't know. He just wanted to know what was going on with your team. I told him you are a good agent and worked hard – too hard! But you were a good man and a good father."

"Why are you looking at my agents then?"

"They bog you down! You do too much of the work, don't get enough credit for doing such an amazing job to keep people safe. You deserve better than working with people like her, people who create problems for you!"

"You can tell Cramer I know what he's doing and I'm going to have the both of you brought up on criminal charges. Stay away from us," Hotch warned before gesturing Emily toward the door.

"Aaron, no! Please, I love you! We can be a family – you, me, and Jack. I would never do something to hurt you. You have to believe me!" Beth wailed at his back. She chased after him, grabbing his arm before he could leave. She jerked him around, slamming her lips into his before he could react. Unable to do anything through her shock, Emily gaped as Beth assaulted Hotch's mouth. Rousing from her stupor, she moved to help extricate him from the obviously distraught woman's grip. But Hotch beat her too it, pushing Beth away with a grunt of disgust. He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his suit coat.

"Don't come near me, my son, or my friends again," he ordered coldly as he ushered Emily out the door. After exiting the brownstone, Hotch slammed the door behind him. When they reached the SUV, he opened the door for Emily and closed it when she was safely inside the vehicle.

As Hotch drove away from the house, Em spared a final look back. Beth was staring at them through the front window, tears streaming down her face. Emily turned to her supervisor, "I don't think it's Cramer she's obsessed with."

Finally free from the oppressive environment of Beth's home, Hotch took a cleansing breath. "Emily… I am so sorry. The things she said, about everyone, but especially about you…"

"Hotch, it's OK."

"No, it's not. You've got a pretty decent poker face, but we're profilers and I've known you too long. I could see your reaction. I don't think those things of you, Emily."

"I know," she told him with a small smile. "But I also know there are people in the Bureau that do." Hotch opened his mouth to argue, but Emily barreled ahead. "You know it as well as I do."

"I don't think it, and neither does anyone on the team."

"I know. That's all that matters to me."

They drove several miles without speaking. At every red light, Hotch shifted restlessly in his seat. "Are you alright?" Emily asked.

"I'm too keyed up from this. I can't go home yet. I'll just end up pacing around the house. Would you like to grab something to eat?"

"What about Jack?"

"It's his Spring Break. He and Jessica are spending the week with his grandparents."

"Oh… well, sure. How about Mexican?"

"That sounds good. I know a place."

* * *

After they shared a pleasant meal, Hotch drove Emily home. He insisted on coming up to her apartment to make sure everything was safe. Beth's viciousness toward Emily worried him. When Emily unlocked her door, Hotch entered just behind her, doing a quick sweep of the tidy apartment to ensure that all was well. Amused, Emily picked up Sergio and took him into the kitchen for his evening meal. She wasn't particularly concerned about Beth, but if clearing her apartment made Hotch feel better, she'd let him do it.

When Hotch returned, Emily smiled at him. "All clear?"

"Yeah," he said grinning at her. "Sorry about the overprotective streak. I think I'm a little rattled by all of this."

"It's OK, Hotch, I get it," she told him as she walked him to the door.

"Emily... I know I keep saying this, but I am sorry. For what she said. I hope that you don't let it get to you."

"I won't. I promise... and if I do, I promise to talk to you about it. Deal?"

"Deal," he agreed.

Hotch leaned forward to give her a quick peck on the cheek and say goodnight, but, unused to such friendly physical gestures, Emily had already begun to turn toward the door. Instead of her cheek, Hotch's lips pressed gently to the corner of Emily's mouth. She froze at the contact and her breath caught. Realizing what he'd done, Hotch pulled back slightly, looking down at her. For the first time since he started working with her, Hotch was totally aware of Emily as a woman. He had known she was attractive, he wasn't blind, but he'd always kept his distance, not analyzing her attractiveness beyond acknowledging its existence. Initially, he'd been suspicious of her arrival at the BAU. They'd been distantly polite but somewhat professionally hostile. Then they'd resolved those issues and come to respect one another, even like one another, on one level. But he'd always managed to keep things strictly professional between them. She was an agent, his subordinate, nothing more. Now, suddenly, he was aware of **her**: her smell, her heat, the delicate arch of her eyebrows, the sensuous curve of her lips, and the generous weight of her breast pressed against him.

Without further thought, Hotch leaned toward her, once again pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth. Emily's eyes fluttered closed and a quiet rush of breath whispered past her lips at the contact. When Hotch's tongue flickered hesitatingly at the seam of her lips, she turned into him, giving him complete access, opening to the warmth. He was gentle, methodical in the kiss, but not lacking in passion. His lips glided over hers, his tongue probing, massaging her own, while his hands came around her waist, slid up under her suit jacket, then stroked down her back, subtly bringing her closer, cradling her against his lean body. Emily's hands stole around Hotch's neck and into his thick hair. Her fingers dragged lightly at his scalp.

Her touch broke the gentleness of their embrace. Hotch turned, pressing Emily against the wall beside the door, never breaking the kiss. He was urgent, intoxicated by the feel and taste of her. His hands stroked around her waist, up and over the mounds of her breasts. He reveled in the breathy moan his touch elicited. His hands caressed along her arms until he reached her hands. He dislodged her fingers from his hair, gripping them easily before interlacing their fingers. He pressed her hands against the wall above her head before lowering them behind her back, using the new position to arch her lower body into his. This time, he shuddered at the contact, nearly overcome by the feel of her pelvis grinding against his. Emily's head fell back, breaking off the kiss, and Hotch took the opportunity to plunder her long neck. The pale skin was a tantalizing feast, and he nipped, kissed, and licked at the banquet before him.

Hotch loosened his grip on her hands, allowing her the freedom to latch on to his hips and pull him harder against her. He pulled her shirt free from her pants, snaked his hands under the material to smooth across the swollen tips of her breasts. He pushed the blouse up further, exposing the soft swells above her bra, and lavished them with the same attention he'd given her neck. Hotch dipped a hand into her bra, pulling down the left cup and freeing her breast from its confines. He lowered his lips to the sensitive skin, suckling hard at the tightened bud.

Emily sighed at the pleasure rolling through her body, her right leg rising to hook around Hotch's left thigh. She could feel the tension coiling tighter within her, and knew she was well on her was to an explosive orgasm. Emily began fumbling with his belt and managed to unclasp it, flip open the button, and lower the zipper of his trousers. She was reaching inside his boxer briefs, tantalizingly close to her first touch of his engorged penis when Hotch's cell phone began to ring.

They both froze, gasping for breath. Emily reluctantly pulled her hands from his underwear, resting them against the taut skin of his abdomen. He trembled at the touch then slowly pulled away from her breast, inhaling her scent and gently kissing the underside, before pulling the bra cup back over her and lowering her blouse. He fumbled his phone out of his pocket, but when Emily tried to lower her leg from its position around his thigh, he stilled her movement, gripping the sleek muscle before stroking up to her hip. He stared into her dark eyes as he answered the call, "Hotchner."

After several seconds he said, "Hold on. I'm with Emily and I want to put you on speaker." He pressed the speaker button on the phone, holding it out for both of them to listen, never loosening his grip on her hip. "Go ahead, Morgan."

"Garcia called. She's been monitoring Beth's cell. About 30 minutes ago, Beth called information. She was on the phone with them for a few minutes then hung up. A few minutes ago, she used her credit card at an electronic store. She bought a new laptop. Garcia can't find her right now, so chances are, she's out looking for a free and anonymous internet connection."

"Thanks, Morgan," Hotch said. "If you find out anything else, you can reach me on my cell."

"Alright. Whatever you said must have set her off. We'll keep an eye out and let you know. Night." Hotch hung up then slipped the phone back into his pocket.

Emily and Hotch stared at one another before Hotch leaned back into her. Before his lips made contact with hers, Emily pressed her hand to his chest, holding him at bay.

"Hotch… we can't do this."

"Why not?"

"Because… because you're you and I'm me."

"I want you, Emily," he told her using the hand on her hip to pull her body against his.

Emily closed her eyes, arching into his hardness. "I want you too," she whispered. Before he could swoop in and take advantage of her obvious enjoyment of his closeness, she opened her eyes. "But we can't. Not like this."

"What do you mean?"

"Hotch, you just had a disturbing encounter with the woman you've been dating. You found out she's been spying on you and your colleagues, especially me. Plus, we work together. This can't be a casual thing. It will have repercussions for too many people."

Hotch eased back a few inches watching her intently. He knew she was right. They needed to go slowly, to make sure that their professional relationship wasn't disturbed by a personal one. Although Hotch was damn sure he would never be able to look at her again without remembering the way she tasted or how exquisite she felt under his hands and lips. Because he knew Emily, Hotch also knew she was offering him a way out, a chance to consider who she was and what she'd done and back away from her emotionally. But he already knew what he needed to know, and there was no way in hell he'd be able to walk away from what he felt between them. So he'd take the chance to show her exactly what he felt and thought about her.

"Alright," he told her, coming up with a plan on the fly. "We'll do this slowly. Have dinner with me tomorrow. Please," he added when he saw that she would refuse. "Please, Emily. Have dinner with me tomorrow." He took her hand, rubbing his thumb across her palm and smiling at her.

Emily couldn't resist the charm and sighed. "OK. We'll have dinner. But nothing else."

Hotch's smile widened causing his dimples to appear. "Great." He turned to leave.

"Hotch?" Emily called.

"Yes?"

"I need a ride to work tomorrow. We left my car at Quantico. Will you pick me up in the morning?"

"Absolutely. What time?"

"7:30?"

"Sounds like a plan. See you in the morning," he said before pressing another sweet kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I think that's my favorite spot," he told her as he left.

After relocking and re-chaining the door, Emily nearly collapsed against the wooden surface. Sergio sat a few feet away, watching his mistress with enormous gold eyes. The tip of his tail twitched and he blinked placidly. "Oh shit, Sergio, I am in so much trouble," she announced.

* * *

The next morning, Emily waited in the lobby of her building for Hotch to arrive. She'd told him to pick her up at 7:30 a.m., but she suspected that he would be early and had gone down to the lobby at 7:20 a.m. She didn't want Hotch to come up to her apartment. It wasn't that Emily didn't want him there, but she was afraid that in the confines of her apartment, with the memories of their activities the night before hanging in the air, Hotch would probably try to kiss her again. And she wasn't certain that she'd be able to resist him, or if she even wanted to.

Emily didn't think Hotch had a lot of experience with women. He'd been with Haley for a long time and hadn't dated anyone since her death until Beth. But what he lacked in experience, he made up for in intensity. Last night, Hotch had been completely focused on her. He was gentle, methodical even, but his entire being had been totally focused on her and what they'd been doing. Such attention was the ultimate seduction for Emily. The memories of what he had made her feel had kept her awake and restless in her bed. More than once, Emily woke from a fitful sleep to find herself reaching for him even though he'd left hours before. She wasn't accustomed to craving someone like that, to almost desperately want him beside her. Not necessarily for sex, but someone who would know her, who would know when to stroke to soothe and when to arouse. With Hotch, Emily knew she could have it. And wanting that, needing it, frightened her a little bit.

So, she'd gone down early to wait for him. Sure enough, at 7:23 a.m., Hotch arrived in front of her apartment building. He was rounding the hood of the SUV when Emily emerged from the lobby. He stopped on the sidewalk, waiting for her to reach him. When she did, he smiled at her, a look so unexpectedly open and carefree that Emily couldn't help but smile back.

"Good morning," he said.

"Morning, Hotch," she replied.

"I would have come upstairs. You didn't have to wait in the lobby."

"I know… but I wasn't sure that was such a good idea," Emily told him honestly.

"Why not?" Hotch frowned.

"Because I wasn't sure if I'd be able to stop you this time," she confessed.

Hotch beamed as he held open the door. "That's the best thing you could have said to me."

Hotch and Emily had each worried that after their explosive encounter the previous evening things would be awkward between them. Happily for both, they were able to chat with no tension. Emily asked after Jack and Hotch inquired after her mother. Emily confessed that she'd still only seen her the one time, but was making an effort to call every other week. Hotch was impressed that she'd do that given the state of her relationship with her demanding mother and wished her luck.

They arrived at Quantico just before eight o'clock. Traveling against the flow of traffic made for an easier commute. A bit later, when the team was assembled, including Strauss to everyone's shock, Hotch filled them in on the confrontation with Beth.

"So, she claimed she was helping you?" Morgan asked his eyes narrowed in thought.

"Yes, she said she was protecting me. Why is that important?"

"Hotch, I think we've been looking at this wrong. I don't think Beth's obsessed with Cramer. I think she's focused on you," Morgan told him.

"That's what I told him," Emily added.

"What makes you say that?" JJ asked. They hadn't had many obsessional cases since she'd returned to the BAU as a profiler. Morgan was the expert on obsessional crimes, and, discounting the fact that Hotch might be the object of obsession, she was looking forward to learning more about these types of unsubs.

"From what you told us, Hotch, it sounds like Beth fixated on you. You're a good man, you're a good father. You work too hard, you don't get enough credit for the work. The rest of the unit bogs you down. It sounds like you're the sole focus of her attention."

"Couldn't that just be her way of trying to deflect attention away from what she's doing with Cramer?" Strauss asked.

"That would be a possibility," Morgan explained, "except she immediately turned on Emily. Beth accused Emily of sleeping with Hotch. If it was just a diversionary tactic, she probably wouldn't have been as quick to attack someone she saw as a potential rival. From her time spent with Hotch, Beth would know that he and Prentiss are close. Plus, Em's an attractive, single woman who is in close contact with Hotch every day. In Beth's mind, that makes Emily a threat."

"Morgan's right," Reid threw in. "You mentioned that she said you'd spent several hours with Emily on Sunday, Hotch. How would she know where you went and how long you were there unless she's following you?"

"Couldn't that have been because of her standard surveillance of Agent Hotchner?" Strauss asked.

"No," Rossi told her. "Beth turned on Emily, nearly attacked her – an armed federal agent with hand-to-hand combat training. She wasn't trying to cover up what she'd been doing. She was genuinely pissed and snapped, lashing out at the person she believes endangers her relationship with the object of her obsession."

Silence reigned for several moments as the team absorbed this information. It was an unexpected wrinkle, and a potentially dangerous one. If Beth really had developed some psychopathology related to Hotch, she could rapidly become unstable.

Morgan looked over at Emily, "You'd already considered this, hadn't you?"

"It did occur to me," Emily admitted.

"Are you good to protect yourself, Princess?" he asked. Morgan's feelings for Emily were deep and complicated. He loved her as much as he loved his sisters and he had gotten over his initial fury when she returned from the dead. The thought that someone else was stalking her, planning to hurt her or even kill her, chilled him to the bone. He knew she could take care of herself, but that didn't mean he would stop worrying about her.

"Yes, Morgan," she assured him, knowing and understanding the source of his concern.

After thinking over the situation, JJ voiced her own concern, "What about Jack?"

"What do you mean?" Morgan asked.

"Could Beth pose a threat to Jack? Would she go after him? Would she seem him as a threat, like she sees Emily?" JJ demanded.

Strauss looked anxiously from Morgan to Hotch, "Is that a possibility? Would she go after your son, Aaron?"

"No, ma'am, it isn't likely," Hotch told Strauss. He knew that she and JJ were parents too and would worry over the safety of his child.

"Why not?" Strauss demanded.

"She sees Jack as an extension of how good and worthy Hotch is," Morgan answered. "She won't see him as a threat, and I don't think she'd target him for the same reason. She knows that there would be no turning back if she did something to Jack. Chances are she'd lavish him with gifts in an attempt to buy his affection."

"At least until she views him as an obstacle to her relationship with Hotch," Reid added.

"Jack is currently spending the week with his grandparents. I think Morgan's…" Hotch started to explain. At that moment, Anderson stuck his head in the conference room, interrupting Hotch's train of thought.

"Ma'am," Anderson said to Strauss, "there's a call for you on line 4."

"Erin Strauss," she announced after picking up the receiver. At her screeched, "WHAT?" the team turned to look at her anxiously. "We'll be right there," she said before hanging up the phone. "You'll need to get up to the Capitol. Senator Cramer was murdered in his office last night."

"What?" Rossi asked.

"One of his staffers found him this morning. It looks like he was bludgeoned to death. Because it happened on federal property, the DC police has asked the FBI to handle the case. There are a number of political and security concerns, so the Director has assigned your team to investigate."

"Ma'am, I don't know that we're the best team to handle this. Senator Cramer was actively engaged in a clandestine investigation of everyone in this room," Hotch pointed out.

"I appreciate that, Aaron, but no one, except this crazy woman – who I believe is probably your number one suspect – is aware of that. If I didn't think you could be absolutely impartial, I wouldn't assign the case to you. But Beth is right: your professionalism is unparalleled. You'll put everything aside to complete this assignment. Keep me informed of all developments."

"Yes, ma'am," Hotch told her before she exited. "OK, everyone, we leave in five minutes."

* * *

Due to his seniority, Senator Cramer had scored one of the larger and better placed offices in the Capitol building. The carpet was thick, the set up sleek and efficient, and the entire scene was a bloody mess. Streaks of blood, pieces of skull, and brain matter were liberally splashed everywhere.

From the body's position, it looked as if Cramer had turned his back on the assailant while he poured himself a drink – scotch neat from the smell. The unsub had used a small marble statue from the credenza to knock him to the ground then beat and kick him to death. It had been an incredibly painful way to die.

"Nothing about this scene indicates an organized offender," Morgan said. "A weapon of opportunity, absolute rage. The unsub completely lost control. This was very personal."

"Most of the blows are to the head and face," Reid commented.

"It would be someone he considered a friend or at least someone he viewed as non-threatening. Otherwise, he wouldn't have turned his back on the unsub," Rossi pointed out.

"But disorganized offenders generally attack victims of opportunity. A senator alone in his office at the Capitol late at night is not a victim of opportunity," JJ said. "There's too much security just to get in the building."

"Let's get Garcia on the phone," Hotch ordered.

Morgan dialed the number for the technical analyst back at Quantico and her cheerful voice soon piped through the phone's small speakers. "Goddess of all things tech speaking!"

"Hey, Garcia, you're on speaker," Morgan gently warned her. "Hotch has some questions for you, tech goddess."

"Fire away, Bossman!"

"Garcia, can you get into the building's security, get us the camera feeds for the last 12 hours?"

"Absolutely. Give me just a minute. It looks like they've made some upgrades to their system… They are on their way to your tablets now."

"Thank you. Now, did Cramer have any additional security for his own offices?"

"Let me see… Um… there's nothing on file. He had the locks changed when he took over the space… There's a secured safe in his personal office… Um… hmmmmmmm…"

"What is it, Penelope?" Morgan asked.

"There's another signal in his office."

"I'm sorry?" Hotch asked, not sure what she was referring to.

"Another wi-fi signal, sir."

"There are two?"

"Yes. It looks like one is the standard service for all of the offices on the Hill. But there's a second signal. It's got a very small range, probably just in his personal office. Look around for the source. Try somewhere near his desk."

The team rummaged through the rest of the office while Morgan and Hotch searched around the Senator's desk until they discovered the source of the signal.

"Hey, baby girl, it looks like we got it," Morgan told her. "It's a camera."

"Really?" Garcia asked, the excitement evident in her voice. "Give me a second and I'll see where it's feeding the signal to," she told her colleagues as her fingers flew over her keyboard. Hotch and Morgan listened in silence as her nails clicked rapidly. "Gotcha!" she cried suddenly. "It looks like the Gentleman from Virginia was recording everything to a secure site. It allowed him to upload video whenever he wanted. He could activate the feed by just turning on the camera."

"Garcia, is the camera on now?"

"Yes, sir. Let me… OK, it looks like the feed's been running since about 11:51 last night."

"Can you get us whatever the camera's recorded?"

"Yes, sir. I'm going to shut the feed off and upload it here."

"Thank you. We'll be back to Quantico shortly, and Penelope, I don't want to know why you know that Capitol Hill's e-security has changed" he told her before turning to the team going through the outer office. "Alright, everyone, let's wrap this up and head back to the BAU."

* * *

As they gathered around the conference table again, Hotch took a seat by Emily. His thigh brushed lightly against hers as he adjusted his long legs under the table. Hotch suppressed his natural reaction to her nearness. Emily's cheeks bloomed a delicate pink. Being professionals, they ignored their own and one another's reactions, focusing instead on the large screen in front of them. Hotch was happily surprised that he could be professional considering his lust was always just under the surface. It was a welcome revelation.

"I've loaded the video. I don't know when everything happened, so we may have to watch the whole thing. Thankfully, we'll probably be able to fast forward through most of it," PG explained.

At her press of a button, the video began playing. Cramer sat at his desk flipping through several of the reports. It didn't take long before a knock sounded. "Come in," he called.

When Cramer's visitor was seated, the team understood the camera's bizarre positioning. It was aimed directly over Cramer's shoulder, providing a perfect image of whoever sat on the other side of his desk. They watched as Beth Clemmons took a seat and smiled.

"Sentator."

"Beth, so nice to see you."

"I'm not sure you should feel that way," she simpered.

"Oh? And why is that?" he inquired.

"Because Aaron Hotchner and his team are aware that I've been meeting with you," Beth told him.

There was a moment of silence and then Cramer sighed. "I suspected as much. This is unfortunate."

"What do you mean?" Beth asked calmly.

"Both of our computers wouldn't be fried within minutes of one another. It wasn't a coincidence. He set that analyst on us."

"I meant the unfortunate part."

"Ah. Well, it advances my timetable a bit," the Senator explained genially.

"What timetable?" Beth asked.

"I'm taking down that unit. They're all corrupt. Agent Hotchner will be the first to fall. Agent Prentiss will be right behind him."

"Sir, Agent Hotchner is an exemplary FBI agent. His record is outstanding."

"Agent Hotchner and his team are out of control. They've exceeded their mandate and exercising personal vendettas through their jobs with the Bureau. It's time someone take this group of agents in hand before things get even worse," he told her as he rose from his chair and moved over to the decanter of whiskey.

"I can't let you do that," Beth told him.

In the BAU conference room, the team watched as Beth picked up the closest weapon at hand – the marble statue on the desk in front of her – and slammed it into Cramer's head. The defenseless man dropped his drink and had no time to protect himself before the next blow landed. When he fell to the ground, Beth continued to strike him, blood splattering as she raised and lowered the impromptu weapon.

"You. Can't. Touch. Aaron," Beth ground out between each strike.

When she finished her gruesome task, Beth straightened her clothes and hair. She peeled off her stained jacket and draped it over her arm before leaving the office. The team was able to fast forward through the rest of the video in silence. The brutality of the attack was shocking, as was the rapid change in Beth's demeanor. When it was over, and Garcia had uncovered her eyes, they looked at one another.

"We've got a serious problem, Aaron," Dave said.

"Yeah, Hotch, your girlfriend is psychotic," Reid said.

"Thank you, Reid," Hotch responded drily. "And she isn't my girlfriend."

"It's more than that," JJ said. "Did you see her? She's escalating. She's completely focused on you, Hotch, and she's willing to kill anyone that threatens you without a thought."

"And she's latched on to Emily as a rival for your affection. She'll be looking to come after her next," Rossi added.

"What?" Emily asked.

"Kiddo, she attacked you yesterday. Maybe only verbally, but she clearly sees you as a threat to her relationship with Hotch."

"Oh, Emily, you'd better take precautions because she's totally nuts," PG wailed.

"Garcia, I'm very aware of how to take care of myself," Emily told her.

"Still, you shouldn't be alone until we find this nutjob!" Garcia insisted.

"Garcia…" Emily began.

"Penelope's right, Em," Morgan stated. "You're not going anywhere alone."

"Morgan…" Emily argued.

'He's right, and you know it. She's going to come after you," Rossi interrupted.

"I'll take care of this," Hotch said.

"Hotch, this is ridiculous!" Emily exclaimed.

"No, it's not, Emily. Did you see the video? She's had a complete break. She beat a United States Senator to death in his own office. She nearly attacked you last night. If she gets the chance, she'll go after you, and you know it."

Emily rolled her eyes, but didn't argue. She knew her team was right. The video had clearly shown that Beth was out of her mind. And Emily had already admitted to suspecting that Beth was targeting her. She wondered if Beth knew or suspected what she and Hotch had gotten up to in her apartment the evening before. Emily was certain Beth was stalking Aaron. If she was… well, she would have seen the way he looked when he left her apartment – hair and clothes disheveled, lips swollen, and a very happily smug grin lighting his face.

Hotch was right. Beth was definitely going to come after her. Not that Emily could really blame her. She sneaked a quick peek over at her boss. He was smart, attractive, brave, and the man could do extraordinary things with his mouth. Maybe Hotch taking care of things for a few days wouldn't be so bad.

_Shit_, Emily thought to herself. _Why am I thinking of this now? Some psycho whore is targeting me for god only knows what and I'm lusting after my boss._ "Would you excuse me for a second, please," she said to the team before exiting the room. Six pairs of eyes watched her leave. The entire team was worried for her.

"Damn, this is fucked up. It's no wonder it's getting to her," Morgan declared as soon as Emily was out of earshot.

"I'll go talk to her," Hotch assured them. "I want everyone to start going through Beth's past. Look for previous patterns in behavior. She stalked her previous boyfriends. Find out what she did, where she went. Talk to as many of the exes as you can find. Maybe we can track her down before she hurts anyone else," Hotch instructed them before going in search of his errant agent.

* * *

Hotch found Emily sitting alone in a dark conference room. He breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn't left the building… although, chasing her could be fun. _Catching her would definitely be fun_, Hotch mused. At the turn of his thoughts, Aaron paused. _Christ, Aaron, pull yourself together. This is neither the time nor the place to be thinking about that_, he reminded himself.

He entered the dark room, closing the door and blinds him. With the blinds drawn, there was almost no sound from the hallway. Emily was facing away from the door, but Hotch knew she was aware of who had entered. Her whole body changed, tensed. The air fairly crackled with the electricity between them. Hotch took the seat next to his agent, turning the chair to face her completely.

"What's wrong, Em?" he asked her gently.

"I don't know that I can do this, Hotch," she says softly.

Hotch frowned. "Do what?"

"Don't be obtuse, Hotch. I don't know that I can do **this**, what's between us."

"Why not?"

"Because it's distracting! You're distracting! We're trying to profile a lunatic who murdered a U.S. senator by beating him to death, and all I can think about is how I don't blame her."

"Really?" Hotch asked, absurdly pleased at the thought.

Emily smiled and shook her head at him. "Yes. Hotch… what I feel… it's so confusing. And now we're doing… whatever we're doing, and I'm having a hard time focusing on work. All I can think about is jumping you."

"I wouldn't object," he teased. At her head tilt, he sighed. "I know… I'm having the same problem, although for me it's more like an overwhelming compulsion to touch you and I have to constantly remind myself not to. I don't want to do anything overt, but every time you're near me, I just want to run my hand down your arm. My hand needs to come into contact with you, to remind myself that you're really here." As he explained his need, Hotch took her right hand in both of his, stroking slowly, rubbing his thumb gently over her palm. "It's wrong, but I need it. I'm not sorry I feel that way, and I'm glad you feel the same."

Emily smiled at him. "Who would have thought?" she wondered aloud.

"Thought what?" Hotch asked, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of dark hair behind one of her ear. As he drew his hand away, he ran it gently along the line of her jaw.

"That we'd end up here. With the way things started between us when I first came to the BAU, and all that's happened since then, who would have thought that we'd end up sitting across from one another at work discussing how we can't keep our hand to ourselves," she explained with a smile.

Hotch smiled back at her, flashing his dimples before sobering. They had so much to discuss. "Emily, I want you to stay with me until we find Beth."

"Hotch, I don't know…"

"Please. You know the others are right. Beth is going to come after you. I need to keep you safe until we find her. If anything were to happen to you because of me…"

"Hotch, no! It would all be on Beth, not you! Just like Haley wasn't your fault."

"I don't want to lose someone else I love, Em."

"What?" she whispered.

"I love you. I don't know if I'm in love with you… but I think I am. You've always been here for me – even when I've been a complete ass. And I missed you when you were away. It was like a piece of me was missing, too. I think about you all the time, even when I should be working, and I wonder what you'd think or say about everything. It's been a while for me, but I think I'm in love with you."

Emily's mouth dropped open in shock. "Oh my god," she whispered.

"Please, Emily," Hotch pleaded. "Please stay with me. Let me keep you safe until we find Beth. We'll figure out everything from there."

"OK," she said, unable to do anything but capitulate to his request.

* * *

Once Hotch and Emily returned to the conference room, the team set about the task of tracking down Hotch's psycho ex. JJ's skill with the media, something no one on the team had ever been able to match, proved invaluable. They were able to get the information about Beth out to every major news network, as well as to all local police and sheriff's departments between Massachusetts and South Carolina. Per the profile, the BAU was nearly certain that Beth wouldn't stray far from D.C. and Hotch – the object of her obsession – but it always paid to be cautious and Beth had been compensated very well for her work with Senator Cramer. She had considerable assets at her disposal to lay low until she had the opportunity to strike again or to escape if she found a new object of obsession.

After getting the information to local police and the press, each member of the team began the laborious process of writing reports for their roles in investigating Senator Cramer's murder. As much as they each hated the paperwork, they knew that these reports were particularly important and would be subject to more scrutiny.

"Fucking politics," Emily grumbled as she revised her report again. Unlike previous cases, she was having a difficult time bottling her emotions. They kept leaking into her paperwork. She discovered she'd referred to Senator Cramer as "that asshole" twice, and Beth as the "psycho whore in pigtails." It was the worst possible time to lose her ability to compartmentalize, but Emily was well aware of the cause. Cramer's illicit activity, Beth's spying on everyone by manipulating Hotch, the sudden explosive turn in her relationship with Hotch, the threat of Beth… it was all circling around in her mind. She was worried for the team, blaming herself for Cramer's intrusion into their lives, worried about Hotch, pissed about Beth, and excited, confused, and nervous about staying with Hotch while Beth was on the loose.

If she was honest with herself, it was more the situation with Hotch that was distracting her at the moment. Anticipation, hot and heavy, squeezed through her belly. She was going to spend her evenings with him for some undetermined period of time. Emily wasn't a fool; she knew exactly what was going to happen between them one of the nights they were alone together. Her concern was more for how it would affect them going forward. She had feelings for him, deep complicated feelings, and as strong as her feelings were, there were so many impediments to them being together. Certainly not physically. She could feel herself blush just thinking about him and what he could do to her. But their personal lives, their emotional baggage, and their jobs loomed so large, Emily wasn't sure they would ever be able to work as a couple.

Shaking her head to rid the distraction of Hotch from her mind, Emily refocused her attention on her paperwork. She wanted to finish playing politics as soon as possible. She needed to go home, pack some things and get Sergio ready if she was going to spend some time at Hotch's… or maybe he intended to stay at her place. Jesus, they had an awful lot to talk about before tonight.

Emily finished her report on the Capitol Hill homicide and a few others still awaiting her attention. She knew Hotch tended to stay late and had opted to get as much paperwork done as possible while she stayed in the office with him. By 9 pm she was hungry and her brain was shot. She and Hotch needed to discuss the plan for the next few days. Emily didn't even know if she needed to get things from home, or if Hotch planned to stay at her place. She trudged up to his office, files in hand. Most of the team had already left, she, Hotch, and Rossi were the only ones left in the bullpen. She knocked quickly and entered the office without waiting for permission.

Hotch looked up from the stacks of paperwork littering his desk. "Have you finished your report already?" he asked, confused.

"Already? Hotch, it's almost 9," she told him.

"Really?" Hotch peered down at his watch. "Damn! Emily, I'm so sorry, I got caught up in all this paperwork. You must be starving. Hold on a second, let me get some of this together and we'll go."

Emily grinned at him. "Is this how you always end up here so late? Buried so deep in a pile of paperwork, you don't realize how much time has passed?"

"I usually set the alarm on my phone, so I remember to get out of here at a decent time," Hotch sheepishly admitted. "Sometimes it seems as if the paperwork will never end. I think the stacks breed and make more stacks when I'm not around," he told her, flashing her a dimpled grin as he stuffed files into his brief case.

Emily grinned back. Who knew Hotch had a silly streak? "Maybe they do. Who knows what these reports get up to when no one's there to see?"

Hotch looked up from the last of the files he was trying to fit into the briefcase. His gaze was playful, but undeniably wicked. "Oh, I've got a pretty good idea what they do when they're alone." Emily didn't miss the undertone of his words. Hotch's grin quirked up at one end, enjoying the blush that spread across her pale skin. "Do you have everything?"

"I just need to grab my bag on our way out," she told him.

"Emily, are you sure you're ok with this? I don't want to pressure you into anything."

"I'm OK with this, Hotch. Trust me, if I was opposed to spending copious time in your company, I would have left without you two hours ago," she assured him. Knowing Hotch as well as she did, Emily knew what he was doing – giving her one more chance to back out before they were alone together.

"Alright. Let me tell Dave we're leaving. I'll be right down," he told her as they left his office.

After a quick good night to Rossi, the pair headed out for the evening, neither noticing their friend's grin as he watched them depart from his position on the catwalk. Once they were safely ensconced in Hotch's SUV, Emily began her interrogation about Hotch's plans.

"Hotch, I need to know a few things about the next few days," she told him.

"Like what?"

"Well, for starters, where are we going? If we're staying at my place, fine. If not, I need to go home, get Sergio and pack a few things."

"Why do you need to pack? Don't you have your go bag?"

Emily huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes. "Of course I do, Hotch. But if I use everything in my go bag, I won't have any clothes or toiletries available if we have to leave for a case. Plus, I need to know what we're going to do so I can make arrangements for Sergio."

"I thought he was the perfect man. Doesn't sound like he's particularly self-sufficient," Hotch commented.

Emily smiled. "He's mostly perfect," she assured him.

"What would you prefer to do?" Hotch asked.

"I don't have a preference, but if we stay at your place, I'm bringing the cat over."

"I don't have a problem with that. We'll head over to your place. You can pack some things, get whatever you need for Sergio then we'll head over to my apartment. OK?"

"That sounds fine," Emily told him. She suddenly frowned at Hotch. "Do you actually have food at your apartment?"

"Of course I do. I have a son to feed."

"You know what I mean! Real food… although mac & cheese sounds pretty damn good right about now," Emily admitted.

"Don't worry, Emily," Hotch told her drily, "you'll get fed."

They didn't say much for the remainder of their drive back to Emily's apartment. When they arrived at her building, Emily directed him to use the underground garage. After she gave him the passcode, Hotch parked in one of the few visitor spots and they headed upstairs. Once inside the safety of the apartment, Hotch felt the tension in his shoulders ease. He smiled as Emily bent down and scooped up Sergio, who'd roused himself from the couch to greet them. If the amount of noise he was making was any indication, Sergio was very unhappy with their late arrival.

"I'm sorry, buddy. Let me get you some food," Emily cooed to the irritated cat as she scratched beneath his chin. She set him on the ground and headed into the kitchen to dish out his evening meal. "I'll feed him a little bit now. Some food will probably keep him relatively chilled out on the drive to your place," Emily told Hotch.

For his part, Hotch hadn't moved from his position as sentry in the entryway of Emily's apartment. It wasn't because he thought Beth might try to break down the door any second. Rather, it was sleek black cat glaring at him from the entrance to the kitchen that kept Hotch in his place. _If he could talk, Sergio would be telling me to watch my fucking step_, Hotch thought. Sergio continued staring for 5 more seconds, flicked his tail haughtily, and then strode toward his mistress in the kitchen. When the little black cat was no longer staring holes in him, Hotch let out a quiet sigh. _Pretty sure he's withholding judgment_, Hotch concluded before following cautiously after him.

When Hotch entered the kitchen, Emily was sealing a container of dry cat food. "I think I've got enough food for him for about a week. It's all I have left, so if this takes longer, we'll need to hit the store."

"OK."

"Do you want a drink while I get my things together?" Emily politely offered.

"No, thanks," Hotch responded equally politely.

"Well, then…" Emily paused, acknowledging the sudden awkwardness between them. "I'll be right back," she told him then went upstairs to pack a few things.

In her bedroom, Emily pulled a small duffle bag from the shelf in her closet and hurriedly threw in a few basic items: underwear, socks, bras, and pajamas. She was already wearing her boots, but she decided to add a pair of running shoes and some work out gear, just in case. She turned to her suits, needing to choose what to wear to work for the rest of the week. Emily wasn't a particularly picky dresser. She wore a lot of black and gray – they were simple colors, easy to match, and looked good on her. She snagged three pairs of dress slacks, a couple of blazers, and moved toward where her blouses hung in an orderly, color-coordinated row. She reached up to pull the first three items at hand from their hangers then stopped. The tops were perfectly adequate for work, although maybe a bit boring since they were in various shades of white.

Emily looked at the selections before her, thinking of work and Hotch. _Who am I kidding? I want him to look at me, to appreciate what he sees_, she admitted to herself. With that in mind, she moved away from the plain button-down shirts and carefully selected 4 tops that would be appropriate for work, but were also extremely flattering: a scoop-necked fuchsia blouse; a bright blue, light weight v-neck sweater; her red silk tank; and a thin, bold purple blouse that she paired with a flesh-toned camisole. She also grabbed a simple black dress, which she could pair with a blazer and be acceptable for work, and matching elegant heels.

"Emily, are you about ready?" Hotch called.

"Yeah, just a second!" she told him. Then, before she could chicken out, she quickly grabbed some lingerie and shoved it in the duffle. She didn't have to wear it… it was just in case. She headed into the bathroom to add a few toiletries to her bag. Being a bit OCD and scrupulously efficient, Emily kept travel size bottles of her favorite bath items on hand. She picked out the ones she needed, stowing them in a plastic lined toiletry case along with her toothbrush, dental floss, mascara, a comb, several hair ties, and a lightly scented body cream. She tucked the small case into the duffle, added a pair of dark jeans and a bright red t-shirt from her bureau. She was already wearing her watch, so she didn't worry about that, but she grabbed two pairs of earrings – one silver, one gold – from the little chest on the bureau, slipped them into a small silk bag, and placed it in the front pouch of the duffle.

Before she left her bedroom, Emily pulled a locked box from under her bed, and, after keying in the code, she extracted her back up weapon and an extra clip of ammunition. It was a .380 Ruger, small enough to fit in a holster tucked inside her boot. She checked to make sure the weapon was unloaded before placing it in the bag as well. Emily hadn't carried the small gun since she'd wandered aimlessly around Europe, afraid that Ian Doyle would find her. She hadn't felt that fear since, or the need for the backup, but with the possibility of a confrontation with Beth looming in the future, Emily didn't want to take any chances. If she saw that crazy bitch, she was going to shoot her.

Before she could succumb to the urge to unpack the non-essential items from her bag, Emily left her bedroom. Hotch was still in the kitchen, warily watching Sergio, who seemed to be having the same reaction to her unit chief. "Is that it?" he asked.

"Yeah, I just need to get Sergio's travel bag," she told him.

"He has a travel bag?" Hotch asked incredulously.

"Of course he does. Pen bought it for him," Emily informed him. At Hotch's blank look, Emily grinned. "Come on, Hotch. You know how she is. He's my kid for her to spoil."

Emily extracted a florid green, blue, and yellow bag from the hall closet. It was nearly full and Hotch assumed that, being as borderline OCD as Emily was, she kept the bag ready. It looked like a small litter pan, a container of litter, and some toys (if the jingling bells were any indication) were stored inside. After she added the container of food to the garish bag, Emily offered it to Hotch.

"If you'll carry this, I'll get my duffle and Sergio," she told him.

"I can get both bags."

"Are you sure?"

At Hotch's raised eyebrow, Emily shrugged. If he thought he needed to prove how strong she was, she'd let him carry both bags. Without giving the cat a chance to realize what she was about, Emily scooped him into her arms and headed out the door. At first, Sergio purred at being cuddled close, but when he realized they were leaving the apartment, he began to panic. He tried to get away, wriggling from Emily's embrace and climbing his way up to her shoulder. Before he could leap back into the safety of his home, Hotch grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and picked him up.

"I'll hold him while you get the door," he told her.

"Thanks," Emily told him, setting the alarm and closing and locking the door behind them. With her keys tucked in her pocket, Emily took Sergio back from Hotch, keeping a firm grip on the little cat's nape. Sergio growled in displeasure, but allowed himself to be carted down to the basement and into the SUV. Once the doors were closed, Emily turned him loose, but the start of the engine quickly frightened him back into her lap. For the remainder of the trip, Sergio perched safely in Emily's lap, watching the passing cars with rapt fascination. When they arrived at Hotch's, it was relatively easy to wrangle Sergio into the apartment, but once he was safely inside, the cat insisted on being let loose so he could explore.

While Emily set up the litter pan in the small laundry room, Hotch went to the kitchen to make dinner. It was too late for a big meal, so Hotch pulled together two grilled chicken breast sandwiches, made sure they were topped with plenty of cheese, and popped them into the toaster oven. When Emily returned, he was just pulling the sandwiches from the oven to put them on plates already waiting with portions of cole slaw.

"It's not much," he told her, indicating the meal, "but it's late and we're probably both exhausted."

Emily smiled gratefully, "No, this is perfect. Thanks, Hotch."

They ate quickly and without conversation. Both were too tired to think of much to say. When they were finished, Emily cleared the table, rinsing the plates and silverware and placing them in the dishwasher.

"What time do you want to leave in the morning?" she asked as casually as she could. As they'd eaten, she could feel her nerves mount. Were they? Tonight? She wasn't sure she was ready for this.

Recognizing the tension in her, it was the same that had begun to tighten his own stomach during their impromptu meal, Hotch stepped up to Emily and tucked her hair behind her ear. "We'll leave about 7:30, OK?"

"Yeah," Emily responded, a bit breathless at his gesture. She was not accustomed to sweetness from Hotch.

"Go to bed, Emily. We're eventually going to have sex, but not tonight. I want to spend a great deal of time making love to you, and we're both too tired for that," Hotch said easily.

Emily smiled in response, the tension easing from her shoulders and back. "OK. Um… I shower in the morning. How about you?"

"I'll take one tonight."

"Alright. Night, Hotch," she told him before heading back to Jack's room where she'd be sleeping for the next few days.

Hotch watched her leave and heard the door close behind her. _She's in there right now. Taking off her clothes… putting on pajamas. Right behind that flimsy door_, Hotch told himself.

"Definitely a cold shower tonight," Hotch said.

* * *

After changing into her pajamas, Emily had opened the door to allow Sergio to come and go as he pleased. The cat hated to be locked in or out of a room and would yowl and scratch at the door until he gained admittance or freedom. Although it was relatively early, Emily quickly fell into a fitful slumber. At 2:00 a.m., she awoke with a start, the memory of her dream shuddering through her. She tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but the strange room and the images in her nightmare kept her awake. After thirty minutes of squirming in bed trying to get comfortable, Emily got up and went to the door of Hotch's bedroom. Like hers, it was open a crack and she could see him sleeping.

Emily didn't want to be alone, and after her dream, she really needed to see that Hotch was alright. She knew it was childish, but in the aftermath of her nightmare, she just didn't want to sleep in the unfamiliar dark room by herself. Without giving herself the chance to think it through, Emily went through the open door and crept up to the bed. Being careful not to wake Hotch, she slid between the sheets and blankets, sighing at the comfort of simply being near someone she cared about. Finally relaxed, Emily drifted off to sleep to the soft sounds of Hotch's breathing.

As usual, Hotch woke before dawn. This morning though, he found himself tangled up in the limbs of a brunette. At first, Hotch was unbelievably confused, but as the fog of sleep wore off, he remembered Emily was staying with him… although he definitely recalled that she went to bed in Jack's room the night before. She was lying on her side, facing away from him, her back snuggled up to his chest. Hotch's left thigh was wedged between her legs, and his left arm was wrapped tightly around her waist, his hand resting on the skin of her stomach exposed by the raised hem of her pajama top. Idly, he brushed his fingers gently across the little patch of taut flesh wondering if he'd pushed the top up in his sleep so he could touch her.

Without warning, Emily turned toward him, rolling her hips around his thigh, and cuddling right up to his chest. Hotch froze, trying to control his body's automatic reaction to her movement. He wanted to groan at the sensation, but didn't want to wake her. He managed to stifle the noise, enjoying the feeling of having Emily pressed against him. His arm had remained around her waist, and he began to stroke up and down her back. At first, he kept his hand on top of her pajamas, but as he continued to caress her back, the material bunched revealing a small area of skin at the base of her spine. When Hotch's fingers made contact with the warm flesh, Emily arched against him in her sleep, her breasts pressing more firmly against his chest. Without hesitation, Hotch followed the bare patch of skin under the top.

Hotch could feel himself harden as his hands moved up Emily's back. When his hand reached her nape, he massaged it gently. Emily mewled in her sleep, arching against him again. This time, her pelvis came into contact with his and he was unable to hold back his groan. Emily's eyes fluttered open as the bass vibrations in Hotch's chest rumbled against her. Her sleep fogged brain cleared quickly as Hotch's hand ran down her back to her hip, pulling her against him where she rode his thigh. She moaned at the sensation, lifting her right leg higher on his hip. Hotch bucked uncontrollably into the welcoming vee of Emily's thighs, and Emily's groan broke the relative quiet.

"Hotch!" she gasped.

Hotch stilled all movement, taking deep breaths in an attempt to bring his errant body under some kind of control. He wrapped his arms tightly around Emily, holding her in place against him.

"Emily… we don't have to… if you're not ready…" he tried to tell her.

Emily took his stubbled cheeks in her hands, her passion clouded eyes locked on his, "Aaron, I want this. I want you," she told him. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his, her tongue seeking entrance to his mouth.

On a groan, Hotch opened to her, returning her kiss with unleashed passion. He released Emily from the prison of his arms, running both hands under her pajama top. He broke their kiss long enough to pull the thin garment over her head. When that barrier was gone, he pulled her back against him, shuddering at the touch of her bare skin against his. His mouth found hers once more, sinking into the seductive heat of her. They didn't battle for control or dominance. Instead, they moved together, touching, kissing, exploring one another in a rhythm that brought mutual pleasure.

Hotch rolled Emily beneath him and pushed up on his hands to look down at her. His pelvis ground against hers, and he fought the need to close his eyes at the sensation so he could examine the woman beneath him. In the pale predawn light, Emily was perfection. She was a tall, athletically built woman, thin but with glorious curves enticing his touch, an expanse of creamy skin, full breasts peaked with tight pink nipples, the lush curve of full lips swollen from his attention. There was a delightful smatter of freckles across her upper chest and shoulders.

"God, you are so unbelievably beautiful, Emily," he told her, a tone of awe tinging his voice. At his words, the creamy skin blushed a delicate rose and Hotch was enchanted anew.

Emily broke his intense gaze by reaching up and stroking a finger down one of his dimples. "You don't mind the scars?" she asked hesitantly.

"Scars?" Hotch asked. He'd completely forgotten about her scars. He re-focused on her abdomen, cataloguing the wounds left from her encounter with Doyle. They didn't detract from her beauty. Hell, he barely even realized they were there. Instead, they were a reminder of her strength, perseverance, and dedication to the people she loved. Balancing on his hands, he leaned down and brushed a feather-light kiss over the shamrock on her breast and the scar on her belly. Hotch felt Emily's breath catch at each caress.

He looked back down at her. "You don't mind mine?"

Emily shook her head before pushing herself up on the bed and mirroring Hotch's sweet gesture. She kissed each one in turn. "No, Aaron," she told him when she'd finished. "They're just another part of who you are."

He groaned at her gentle touch and pushed himself to his knees. As he scooted down the bed, Hotch tugged Emily's pajama pants and underwear down her legs, revealing each inch of delectable skin. When she was naked and grinning at him from her place on the bed, Hotch quickly pushed off his boxer briefs and slithered back up her body, dropping teasing kisses along the way. By the time Hotch had reached her breasts, Emily was twisting and straining beneath him. He circled one nipple with his tongue before giving the same treatment to its twin. With a gentle nip at the engorged bud, Hotch continued to tease her as his fingers stroked easily through her folds. Emily was more than ready and arched into his hand as he pushed one finger into her.

"Oh, god, Aaron," she panted. "Please. Don't tease me anymore," she begged.

Swallowing her plea in a kiss, Hotch moved into the cradle of her hips. He entered her in a single thrust, burying himself to the hilt. They groaned together. Hotch froze, savoring the exquisite tightness around him and giving Emily the chance to adjust to his penetration. After a brief burning sense of pressure, Emily felt her muscles relax then contract around Hotch. Needing more, she canted her hips, and Hotch seized the unspoken invitation. He drew back then thrust completely forward. He stilled again, setting up a torturously slow rhythm. His hands slid around to Emily's ass, grasping the firm muscles and jerking her into him with each stroke forward. It was a paradoxically gentle and brutal assault, and Emily punctuated each movement with a cry of ecstasy.

Soon, Hotch could no longer maintain his deliberate pace. His rhythm broke, shattered by Emily's cries and the incomparable feel of her body rippling around him. He maintained enough sanity to press on her clitoris, wanting her to reach orgasm before he found his own release. Using his fingers to spread her open, Hotch pounded savagely into her as he manipulated the over-stimulated nerves. Emily's breath caught again, her body arching rigidly off the bed as her climax erupted. Her inner muscles contracted around him, and Hotch hissed as his hips continued to hammer. Four more thrusts and Hotch followed her over the crest, grunting his pleasure as Emily keened out in a second orgasm.

Hotch collapsed, his head resting in the shallow valley of her breasts as he struggled to breathe. He wrapped his arms tightly around Emily, holding her to him, relishing the shudders that still wracked her body. After several minutes, he leaned up, capturing her lips with his in a heated kiss. He felt his body harden again where he remained within her. Hotch pumped his hips languidly, determined to draw this second foray out. Now that the initial driving need had been sated, he was determined to enjoy the banquet of Emily's body properly.

"I want you again," he whispered to her, nipping a path along the line of her jaw.

"I can tell," she groaned. "Oh god, Hotch!"

Hotch lost control when Emily's body clenched around him. He powered into her; his initial plan to savor the experience was abandoned in the throes of Emily's response. He palmed her breasts, rolling the turgid tips between his fingers. Emily's hands were equally busy, gliding over the sweat-slick skin of his sides to his ass then up his back and into his dark hair. She gripped him hard, digging her heels into the back of his thighs as she orgasmed again.

"Aaron!" she called out before collapsing.

Hotch followed Emily over the edge before crumpling onto the bed beside her. His breath was harsh, matching hers. He would have sworn he was too old for such exertion, but he'd never felt better in his life. Undoubtedly, Hotch was exhausted and his entire body felt like jelly. But he'd never had an experience like that in his life. And now that it was over, he felt an unexpected peace. There was no chance he was ever going to let anyone take Emily from him. She was smart, beautiful, strong, challenging, and unbelievably passionate. Whatever else came of this nasty event with Beth, Hotch intended to make something permanent with her.

But he knew it was much too soon to get into that. So he picked up her hand and kissed her palm. "Not that I'm complaining about waking up to you in my bed," he said with a grin, "but how did you end up in here?"

Emily's eyes were still closed, but Hotch could see the tension seep into her body at his question. "Emily? What's wrong?"

"I had a nightmare and I…" she said before breaking off.

"What is it, Em? You know you can tell me," he told her, lacing his fingers with hers and gripping her hand tightly.

Emily turned toward him, curling into his heat. "It was you… and Doyle and Beth. It didn't make much sense. But I lost you. We were standing together, just talking… and then Beth and Doyle were there… and I lost you. You were gone and I was alone. I couldn't find you anywhere."

"Oh, Emily," Hotch said, pulling her into his arms. When her head rested on his shoulder, he hugged her tightly, running a soothing hand up and down her back. "I'm right here, Em. You're not going to lose me."

They lay quietly together, taking comfort from one another, dozing together until their alarms went off at 6:00 a.m., rousing them from peaceful naps. Hotch kissed Emily's temple before dragging himself from under her.

"I'd offer to shower with you… but, frankly, I don't think either of us would get to work today if I did."

Emily smiled. "Give me 20 minutes and the bathroom will be yours."

"OK. I'll get breakfast," he told her as he pulled on his previously discarded boxer briefs.

Emily grabbed her toiletry case and headed for the bathroom. She showered quickly, not wanting to use all of the hot water. Afterwards, she headed back to Jack's room to dress. As she pulled on underwear and her gray suit, Emily could feel the soreness in her body from her time with Hotch. She smiled to herself, knowing that she would feel what they'd done together all day. When she was dressed, she headed into the kitchen for breakfast. Hotch was just spooning scrambled eggs onto a plate for her.

"Smells good," she said.

"I'm going to jump in the shower. There are more eggs if you're still hungry, and the kettle is warm. Tea's in the cupboard," he told her as he headed back to the bathroom.

Hotch emerged fully dressed from his bedroom 15 minutes later. When he reentered the kitchen, he was the immaculately turned out BAU unit chief. His dark blue suit and pale blue shirt were crisply pressed and his red tie was perfectly knotted. Emily couldn't help staring at him. She knew the body that lurked beneath SSAIC Hotchner's sharp suit.

"Did you get enough?" he asked.

"Not nearly," she murmured absentmindedly.

"There's more if you want it," he offered solicitously.

"Jeez, Hotch, I don't think we've got time," she said, surprised.

"Sure we do," he told her.

"No, because we'll both need to shower again after."

"What?" Hotch asked. "Why would we have to shower after having more eggs?" His confusion was evident is his tone and wrinkled brow.

Emily blushed. "Um, I wasn't talking about having more eggs, Hotch," she told him.

Hotch quickly caught on to her true meaning and the tips of his ears turned a bright pink. He took the fork out of her hand, placed it carefully on the breakfast table then hauled her into his arms. The kiss was fierce, rough even. When it was over, Hotch set Emily away from him.

"You're right. We do not have time for that," he smirked at her. "Are you about ready to go?"

"Almost."

"Me too. We'll leave when you're ready."

Emily brushed her teeth and quickly dried her still damp hair. When she emerged from the bathroom, Hotch was placing the last of their breakfast dishes in the dishwasher.

"I'm sorry, Hotch. I should have done that."

"It's not a big deal."

"I know, but you made breakfast, so you shouldn't have to do the dishes, too. We'll swap on that. One cooks, the other cleans," Emily offered.

"Alright," Hotch grinned, accepting the proposal. "Are you ready?"

"Yep."

"OK, let's go."

As they approached the door, Hotch suddenly grabbed Emily. He pushed her against the wall in a deep kiss, running one hand down her side to her hip, pulling her against him.

"When we walk out of here, I won't be able to touch you again until we walk back through the door," he explained. "I need to get my fill while I can."

Emily returned his kiss eagerly. She knew what he was trying to tell her. When they left his apartment, he would have to be her boss. He didn't necessarily want to be her boss… well, he didn't want to **only** be her boss, but he was. When they broke apart, Hotch leaned his forehead against Emily's and took deep, ragged breaths. His eyes were closed, his face was taut. Watching him closely, Emily reached up to smooth away some of the lines bracketing his mouth.

"I understand," she whispered.

Hotch kept his eyes closed, enjoying the intimacy of her touch. "It isn't because I don't want you or don't have feelings for you," he told her.

"I know, Hotch," she assured him. "Look at me," she told him, but he kept his eyes closed. "Look at me, Aaron," she commanded.

Hotch opened his eyes, stared directly into hers and listened.

"I want us to work. Whatever this is… I want it. But at the BAU, you are still my boss. We have to figure out how we'll manage this. I do understand that. No, it won't be easy. I will get mad at you. You will get mad at me. But we will figure this out. Trust me."

Hotch nodded. "I do trust you. I don't want to lose this, Em. I don't even understand what the hell we're doing. But I love the way you make me feel, even when we're just sitting next to one another and not talking, maybe especially then. And I am so afraid that this job will ruin us like I let it ruin my marriage. I don't think… god, Emily, I don't think I could handle it if I lost you, too."

"You won't. I promise. Now," she said, giving him a sweet kiss on his dimple, "let's go to work."

* * *

Due to Senator Cramer's murder, Strauss took the team out of rotation. She wanted to make sure they were available if there were any questions or if Beth was spotted or apprehended. So they stayed close to home, clearing up the inevitable paperwork, providing requested profiles or telephone consults, and trying to locate Beth, who'd made her way to the FBI's Most Wanted list. For the rest of the week, Hotch and Emily fell into a pattern. They went to Quantico together every day, worked side by side, and went home. At the BAU, he issued orders, assigned tasks, and maintained his authority as her boss. There were the occasional bumps, but they had been collaborating for years and were able to work around their differences in personality and work styles as if nothing had changed between them.

When they left the BAU, they fell into another pattern. They had dinner, did a bit of work, read or watched television, then fell into bed. Despite spending nearly every moment of their lives together, their appetite for one another was unabated. At first, the physical demands seemed almost out of control. But by Thursday, Hotch thought he finally understood his need for Emily.

They were lying on the floor, exhausted and panting, after a particularly athletic bout against the door of the apartment. Hotch hadn't been able to wait until they'd reached the bedroom. They'd worked together all day, combing through old case files in a cramped storage room. The confined space had meant that they were constantly brushing against one another. Hotch's usual state of arousal in Emily's presence had built all day until it exploded just inside the apartment. Emily knew they would both probably regret it later, they were a little too old for vertical sexcapades, but at the moment, with Hotch's fingers ghosting up her spine, she was too content to think of how sore they'd be tomorrow.

"It's because I can't touch you," Hotch said softly, enjoying the feel of her delicate skin under his fingertips.

"What?" she asked.

"We work together all day. But I can't touch you because I'm your boss. Sometimes, I'll look at my window and you're not at your desk, and I start to worry. Then you'll come out of the break room or from Garcia's office… and I just want to touch you. To make sure you're OK, that you haven't left me. I need to touch you and I can't," he explained. "By the time we get here, it's just too much for me to take any more."

Emily stared at him, her dark eyes latched on to his. "I need you too, Aaron. And I'm not going anywhere."

Later, after they'd eaten and finally made it to bed, Emily held Hotch close long after he'd fallen asleep. "I'm in love with you, Aaron," she whispered in the silent room.

* * *

Because Strauss had grounded them, the team had the entire weekend to spend at home. It was an unexpected treat: no possibility of being called in for a case. On Friday, Hotch was ecstatic about the prospect of an entire weekend with Emily and no work. Jack would be home from his grandparents' on Sunday afternoon, but until then it was just the two of them. Initially, he'd thought to plan an elaborate night out. He wasn't sure what, but he thought he should take Emily on a proper date. When he asked what she'd like to do, she surprised him by telling him nothing. She just wanted to spend time with him.

"I thought we'd head over to a café near the apartment for dinner," Hotch told her on their way home that evening. It was relatively early, only 5:00 p.m., and they were both pleased to leave work while the sun was still up.

"Aaron, we don't have to go out," Emily told him.

"I know, but it's a nice evening. I thought it'd be nice to go for a walk, enjoy something of spring while we've got the chance. It's not a fancy place, but the food is good."

Emily thought about his suggestion for a few minutes. It was such a pretty day and the idea of being outside in it was tantalizing. "That actually sounds like a great plan," she conceded with a smile. "But I definitely want to change first."

"Me, too."

"Are you saying that you're tired of being in a suit?" Emily said in mock horror. "I never thought I'd see the day when that happened!" she teased.

"Yeah, yeah," Hotch grumbled good-naturedly.

"Although, speaking of clothes, I need to run by my apartment this weekend and pick up some more things," Emily told him.

"Do you want to do that now?" Hotch offered.

"Nah. We have all day tomorrow, so it can wait."

"OK."

They drove another few blocks in companionable silence before one of Emily's biggest worries started eating at her. Unconsciously, she started picking restlessly at her nails. Hotch immediately noticed her sudden anxiety, and his own nerves immediately jumped to attention.

"What is it, Em?"

At first, he didn't think she would respond, but when she did he was totally unprepared for what she had to tell him.

"Hotch, I… I know Jack will be home on Sunday. I don't know that I'm comfortable with… well, with being with you like this when he's there."

"What? Why not?" Hotch asked, genuinely confused.

"He's your son, Hotch… and he doesn't know me very well, but he knows you're my boss… and…" Emily trailed off, unsure of how to express her concerns.

"Emily, what is it?"

"I don't want him to think badly of me… that I'm just some woman sleeping with his dad. That this is just some casual thing between us!"

"Emily, he won't."

"Hotch, you don't know that."

"Yes, I do, Emily."

"Aaron, he's a kid, you can't possibly know what he'll think, what other kids at school will tell him."

"Yes, I can."

"Really? How can you be so sure?" she asked him, exasperated by his stubborn refusal to acknowledge her point.

"Because when he gets home I plan on telling him that I'm in love with you and that I hope you don't ever leave!"

She gaped at him. For the first time in her entire life, Emily Prentiss was so shocked, she was actually speechless.

Hotch waited for her to say something. Anything. They were nearly to his apartment, but they were damn well going to finish the conversation before they got out of the car. This was definitely not the reaction he'd been hoping for, and her stunned silence had him very worried.

"Please say something, Emily."

"Uh…" It was the only sound she could make.

"Something a little more than that."

"You're in love with me? You want me to move in?" she squeaked. Emily blinked at the sound of her voice. To her chagrin, she sounded terrified. She coughed and took a deep breath. She sounded like a ninny. Mentally, she gave herself a swift kick in the ass. _Jesus, Emily. Pull yourself together._

This conversation was not going the way Hotch had planned. He'd known Jack's imminent return would be difficult for Emily. It wasn't that he thought they didn't like one another. She had a natural affinity with children and she and Jack had always gotten along. But Emily was definitely not one to intrude and he knew that she would see herself as intruding on his time with Jack. Hotch had planned to bring the topic up over dinner, something casual where he could convince her to stay with him for a bit longer. He thought that if he could get her ingrained in his and Jack's daily life it would be harder for her to leave… that eventually she would think of herself as a part of their lives, and when they finally caught Beth, her staying with them wouldn't even be a question. After a while, he thought it would be easier to convince her that he loved her.

Sadly, it looked like he'd jumped the gun on his long term plan.

Hotch sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was definitely not part of his plan. "Emily, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you like this. You definitely deserve better than me shouting at you in a car. I just…" Hotch trailed off not knowing how to explain it to her.

Emily swallowed. Hotch was taking such a long time to speak she thought for a moment he was going to take it back. She definitely didn't want that. "Hotch… I love you, too," she told him simply.

Hotch didn't respond. Instead, he just gripped the wheel until his knuckles were white and floored the SUV. They weren't far from his apartment and he needed to get there as soon as possible. After a few tense minutes, Hotch arrived at his building and parked the car in his numbered spot. As soon as the engine was off, he grabbed Emily and pulled her against him. The seatbelt prevented him from hauling her completely into his lap like he wanted, but he was able to hold her close, savoring the feel of her.

"I love you, Emily," he whispered gruffly. "I'm sorry I didn't do this better, I know this isn't ideal, but I want you to think of staying with me once Jack gets home, of staying with us. At least until we find Beth."

"I'll think about it, Aaron. I promise." she told him, pulling back and looking into his eyes.

Her face was serious, but her dark eyes gleamed with happiness.

"That's all I ask. Come on, let's get changed and grab something to eat."

Hotch exited the SUV and went around to Emily's door. She had already hopped out of the vehicle and was waiting for him. He grabbed her hand, tugging her closer to him, before heading into the building.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Hotch and Emily emerged into the early spring evening. They were dressed casually, but still holding hands. It was a short walk from Hotch's apartment building to the restaurant he had in mind. It was a small place, not much more than a haphazard collection of tables inside and a few more scattered on the sidewalk. Hotch had discovered the little café on accident several weeks before when he and Jack had been looking for somewhere to have lunch after soccer practice. There was an eclectic menu that had allowed him to find something Jack would eat, but also suit the more adventurous palate of a well traveled FBI agent, and the head chef had come out to their table delighting Jack with tales of cooking in kitchens around the world. It was a place he thought Emily would enjoy, and he wanted to share it with her.

The hostess recognized Hotch immediately and ushered them to a cozy booth in the front window before disappearing into the kitchen. When she reentered the dining room, she carried a bottle of wine and had the chef hot on her heels. The little old man greeted Hotch warmly and flirted unashamedly with Emily, who was absolutely enchanted. Matthew, as the chef insisted she call him, opened the wine with a flourish and poured them each a glass of the rich red liquid. Recognizing a blossoming romance, he requested that they leave the evening's menu up to him, promising to surprise them with a special meal. After they agreed to his request, Matthew hurried back to the kitchen and Hotch and Emily settled in to conversation over their wine.

It was a leisurely meal, punctuated by laughter and excellent food. Whatever Matthew had cooked up for them had been delicious, and the old man's blatant flirting with Emily was entertaining rather than irritating. The staff had been discrete, leaving them mostly to themselves, but making sure their glasses were never empty. Emily couldn't recall enjoying a meal more. Afterwards, they made their way slowly back to the apartment, Hotch taking hold of Emily's hand once again. For her part, Emily enjoyed the sweetness of the gesture and the casual intimacy of holding Aaron's hand as they walked home. For Hotch, it was a symbol of how far they'd come. It wasn't just that he needed to touch her, although he did, but that she permitted him to do so. Emily was an incredibly private person not given to displays of emotion no matter how small. That she permitted Aaron such a proprietary gesture in public meant more to him than anything she could have said.

When they reached the apartment, Emily breached the topic of staying with him once Jack returned on Sunday.

"I've been thinking about what you said," she announced unexpectedly.

"Hmmm?"

"About staying here after Jack comes home."

"And?" Hotch asked with trepidation.

"I'm still not sure it's a good idea, Aaron."

"Why not? Don't you want to be with me?"

Emily narrowed her eyes at Hotch's attempt at emotional manipulation. "Don't even start with that, Hotch. You know that's not what I'm saying."

Hotch sighed. "Then what is it? I really don't understand, Emily. We love one another, we want to be together. So what's the problem?"

"Hotch, we've been together a week, and we probably wouldn't be in this position at all if everything hadn't happened with Beth. Can you honestly tell me that we'd be where we are today if I hadn't come to you about Beth?" When Hotch remained silent, Emily nodded. "Exactly. Everything we're doing has happened incredibly fast, and neither of us are people who usually take enormous emotional steps so quickly."

"I understand that, Emily. But I don't want to lose this either, and I'm afraid that if you go home you'll start to worry about what we're doing and you'll pull away from me."

Emily was quiet for a minute. Hotch was right. It wasn't that she didn't want to be with him, but she could borrow trouble like no one else. Maybe they could reach some kind of middle ground. "I don't want that either," she said softly, "but I don't want to jump into anything either." Hotch started to argue with her, but Emily cut him off. "No, Aaron, hear me out. This is sudden. I want to be with you, but something may happen, and then what? What if, after everything is over, we realize that what we're feeling is just the adrenaline high from dealing with Beth? And what about Jack? What kind of example are you setting for your son if I just move in and suddenly we're sleeping together? I don't want him to think of sex as a casual thing, do you?"

Hotch knew she was right. He really didn't want to admit it, but Emily, as usual, was making good sense. "Then what do you suggest?"

"I'll stay here until we find Beth. I'm not foolish, Hotch. I've got a pretty good idea of what she'd do to me if she was able to catch me alone. I don't want that to happen. But we have to be up front with Jack," Emily insisted.

"And then? What happens when we catch Beth?" Hotch needed to know. "Will you just leave? I don't want that."

"I don't want that either. But I think we can compromise. When we're in town, I'll have dinner and stay here at least twice a week. We'll still see each other, and Jack can get used to the idea of us being together."

"Three."

"What?"

"I want you to stay with us at least three nights per week. And one of them has to be either Friday or Saturday night."

"Are you negotiating with me?" Emily smiled.

"Of course I am. I used to be a lawyer," he quipped.

"OK. Three days per week."

"And I want you to stay with me when we're away on cases."

"I don't think…" Emily argued.

"It's non-negotiable."

"Hotch…"

"No, Emily, it's non-negotiable," Hotch insisted. "I want you with me. When we're away, we won't have to worry about what Jack will think."

"Then we have to tell everyone."

"I don't have a problem with that," Hotch declared.

Emily blinked, surprised. She would have thought that Aaron would balk at having his colleagues so aware of his private life.

"Are you sure you're OK with that?" she asked tentatively.

"Emily, my private life resulted in the team being investigated by a corrupt politician and his psychotic spy, who happened to be a woman I was dating. After that, telling them that you and I are a couple isn't a particularly big deal. Besides, I have no intention of hiding our relationship from anyone. Are you OK with it?"

She was silent for a moment, causing Hotch's heart to clench. Then Emily smiled; a broad, dimpled grin that coaxed a responding smile from Hotch. She nodded, "Yeah, I am."

* * *

When Emily woke the next morning, snuggled against Hotch's side, she was naked, warm, and relaxed. After her week with Hotch, the first two weren't particularly surprising. To say that Hotch was insatiable was a bit of an overstatement, but not by much. And when they slept, he inevitably wanted to cuddle. It didn't matter where or when they went to sleep; Hotch managed to wrap himself around her. As always, it was a delightful way to start her morning.

But, there was something different this morning. Usually, Emily snapped to attention the moment her eyelids opened, her mind and body fully functioning within seconds of waking. According to her former psychiatrist, the paranoia she'd developed as a symptom of PTSD had resulted in Emily being hyperaware. It had been more than a year since Emily had enjoyed the luxury of leisurely waking, drifting back and forth between dreams and consciousness. But this morning, curled against Hotch, enclosed in his warm embrace, Emily felt safe. There was no overwhelming need to jump from bed, check the locks, or assess her situation. She lay where she was, smiling a little as Hotch mumbled in his sleep and pulled her closer to him.

Without thinking, Emily let her fingers trace lightly along the planes of Hotch's face. They skimmed the hard line of his jaw, across the sharp edges of his cheek bones, down his nose, smoothed out the lines on his forehead. Emily knew he was awake. She'd felt his entire demeanor change from lax with sleep to awareness, although he kept his eyes closed, and he leaned slightly into her touch. His lashes finally fluttered opened when she ran her thumb across his lips. Hotch smiled sleepily and nipped the pad of her thumb before leaning down for a slow morning kiss.

"Morning," he whispered, his voice still rough with sleep. Hotch stretched out his long legs and rolled on to his back, taking Emily with him so she was draped across his chest.

"Morning," Emily replied snuggling close.

"How long have you been awake?" he asked as he began to massage the sleek muscles of her back.

"Not long. I dozed a bit," she told him, arching languidly into his hands.

Hotch dragged Emily further up his chest for another kiss, then swept his hands down her back to her butt. He kneaded the toned flesh, groaning as Emily swung her leg across his hips. He broke off the kiss before he could lose himself in the temptation of Emily's lithe body. "Come on. Let's take a shower and then I'll make you breakfast."

Emily grinned, "Sounds like the perfect way to start the weekend."

"I thought last night was the perfect way to start the weekend," Hotch teased.

"It was. But this is truly the weekend," Emily rationalized, reluctantly hauling herself from the warmth and comfort of Hotch's bed and followed him into the bathroom.

"I thought we'd go to the zoo today," Hotch told her as he turned on the taps and tested the water temperature.

"You want to go to the zoo?" Emily asked, surprised by his suggestion.

"We don't have to. But it's supposed to be a nice day. We can walk around, enjoy the sunshine," Hotch told her. "Afterwards, we can swing by your place and pick up whatever you'll need for the next few days."

Emily grinned at the thought of spending the day at the zoo with Hotch. "The zoo sounds good," she told him.

Aaron checked the water temperature again to make sure it wasn't too hot. When he was certain the steaming shower wouldn't burn her fair skin, he reached out his hand to Emily. With a small smile, Emily placed her hand in his and let him pull her into the shower. She gasped at the first touch of the hot water on her skin, but soon reveled as it slid over sensitized flesh.

"Is it too hot?"

"No, it feels great," Emily purred. The hot water felt amazing, massaging away the aches of her week.

"Need help washing your hair?" Hotch asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Absolutely," she returned grinning and offering her back to him. "I could probably use a little help washing more than my hair. Think you're up to it?"

Hotch laughed. "I think I could manage that."

* * *

Several hours later, after an incredibly satisfying shower and breakfast, Hotch and Emily dressed for a beautiful spring day at the National Zoo. Emily pulled on her jeans and red tee, opting for her boots instead of her running shoes, which were ready to fall apart. Before leaving the bedroom, Emily slipped the little handgun into the holster in her boot. It was more force of habit than a necessity. Since she'd retrieved the weapon from the lock box, she'd worn it tucked out of sight and generally forgot she was wearing it. At this point, she considered it more of an accessory than anything else.

With the exception of their dinner out the previous evening, Hotch and Emily hadn't spent considerable time together as a couple. They'd known one another for years, had worked side by side, and shared their personal dramas. But as a couple, even as individuals outside of work, they really didn't know much about one another. For them, their afternoon held all the tentative sweetness of a first date. They held hands in the bright spring sunshine, talked about things other than the BAU, and enjoyed one another. Emily delighted in making Hotch laugh, in seeing the dimples flicker to life in his cheeks. Hotch embraced Emily's irreverent humor and was charmed by the frequent appearance of her inner nerd.

"What made you think to bring me to the zoo?" Emily asked him as they shared a snack at the Panda Café.

"I don't know. I thought it would be something different, something that you wouldn't expect. Plus, I really wanted to be outside. I feel like we've been cooped up in the BAU too much lately," he told her. "So, have you had a good time?" he asked, suddenly uncertain.

Emily grinned, "I definitely wouldn't have expected this from you, but I've had fun. It's nice to just spend the afternoon together."

"I know," he told her as he gathered up their things to leave. "Are you ready to go?"

"Not really," she admitted.

Hotch smiled. "Come on, Em. We still need to go by your apartment and the grocery store."

"Reality is such a bitch," Emily sighed.

"It is… but we have until 4 p.m. tomorrow to keep it mostly at bay," he told her as they left the zoo.

"I could think of a few things to do between now and then," Emily said.

"Good," Hotch said kissing their entwined fingers. "We'll do them all."

* * *

They chatted about nothing in particular on the way to Emily's apartment. Traffic on Saturday afternoon was heavy, but neither seemed to notice the annoyance. They were wrapped up in their conversation, Hotch laughing as Emily occasionally sang along with the radio. When they arrived at her apartment building, Hotch unfastened his seat belt to accompany her inside.

"No, Hotch, stay here. I just need to grab a few things. It shouldn't take me more than ten minutes."

"Are you sure?" he asked. He didn't like the thought of letting her out of his sight and it seemed ungentlemanly not to help her carry her things down.

From the wrinkle creasing his forehead, Emily could tell exactly what Hotch was thinking. "It's fine, Hotch. If I'm not back in ten minutes, feel free to come up and help me."

"Fine, ten minutes."

"You can time me if you need to," she said as she dashed from the car and into her building.

Hotch looked down at his watch, checked the time. "Damn right I'll time you." If she was one second over ten minutes, he was heading into the building.

Not wanting to wait for the elevator, Emily ran up the stairs to the fifth floor. When she got to her door, she opened it quickly and stepped inside. She had just enough time to register that the alarm didn't sound before someone shoved her from behind. Emily careened across the entryway and fell into the kitchen doorway. Her head bounced off the raised edge of the door trim moulding and stars exploded in her vision as she slid to the floor.

Beth, clutching largest knife Emily had ever seen, stepped from her hiding place near the hall closet, closed and locked the door, slid the chain in place. She turned back to Emily, "Do you think I'd let a whore like you come between me and Aaron?" she screeched.

Beth charged at her, swinging the knife back. Emily had enough strength to push away from the floor as the knife arced down toward her chest. She rolled to her left and staggered to her feet as the knife slammed into the tile, the tip of the blade snapping off. Without giving Beth time to react, Emily kicked her from behind, landing a blow just above her kidneys. Beth cried out, but fueled by psychotic rage, wasn't down long. She launched herself at Emily, catching her around the waist. The pair tangled together as they tumbled into the living room. Emily pulled back far enough to punch Beth in the nose, taking enormous satisfaction in the crunch. Beth screamed as blood erupted.

"Bitch!" she yowled, grabbing Emily's hair and slammed her head onto the floor. "Aaron is mine," she growled as she rammed Emily's head into the floor again.

Emily struggled in Beth's hold, but the other woman was clever enough in her psychotic state to keep Emily at arm's length, preventing her from landing anymore effective punches. But Morgan's re-certification training hadn't been for nothing, and Emily jammed her fist into Beth's outstretched arm, snapping her elbow. Beth's hold immediately loosened and she turned away from Emily clutching her injured arm.

"You're not good enough for him! You can't love him the way I can!" Beth screamed.

"Put your hands on your head! God dammit, you're under arrest, put your hands on your fucking head!" Emily instructed.

"I'm not taking orders from a whore like you!" Beth said before charging at her once again.

Despite her injured arm and broken nose, Beth was still strong enough to knock Emily to the ground and land several kicks to her ribs. Emily grabbed Beth's leg and jerked it up, causing the other woman to fall backwards onto her ass. Unable to stop herself, Emily curled into a ball, tucking her legs protectively to her chest. She wanted to give in to the momentary need to vomit, but knew she didn't have the time. Gasping, Emily struggled to her feet, clutching her ribs. Doubled over, pain shooting through her chest, Emily stared briefly at her boots before remembering the little handgun she'd tucked inside the right one just that morning. She yanked up the leg of her jeans, fumbling to reach inside her boot for the weapon. Emily could hear Beth scrabbling across the tile in the entryway for the abandoned knife.

Emily heard the scrape of the knife blade against the tile as she freed the weapon from its holster. Beth limped back into the room, her injured arm dangling awkwardly, with a white-knuckled grip on the broken knife. Emily aimed the gun at her.

"Don't move, Beth," Emily warned her.

Tears streamed down Beth's cheeks, "You can't love him like I can." She took a few shambling steps in Emily's direction.

"Stop, Beth. I will shoot you," Emily said.

"If you're not here, everything will be like it was," Beth whispered.

"He doesn't love you, Beth. And you betrayed him. How could Aaron ever want someone who betrayed him like you did?" Emily asked her.

"I didn't!" Beth claimed, adjusting her grip on the knife. "I love him. I kept him safe! I protected his career! Would you do that?"

"I'm not going to tell you again, Beth. Put the knife down and put your hands on your head." Emily knew her words weren't getting through. Beth's eyes were glazed, focused on some monologue only she could hear.

"No," Beth whispered. "You wouldn't. You're just another whore, fucking for a job. You're not good enough for him," she said.

Without any further warning, Beth ran at Emily. Prentiss felt the handgun kick as she squeezed the trigger firing two shots in rapid succession. Beth collapsed to the floor and Emily sank to her knees. Moments later the door burst open, snapping the chain, and slamming into the wall. Emily raised the gun again ready to shoot, but lowered it at the sound of Aaron's voice frantically calling for her.

"Emily!"

"I'm here, Hotch," she said weakly. Fuck, it hurt to talk.

"Oh my god, Emily. I'm so sorry. I waited for the elevator. If I'd taken the stairs…"

"It's OK."

"Emily, you're bleeding," he told her, gently running his fingertips along a cut on her temple. "I'm going to call an ambulance."

"We're going to need more than an ambulance, Hotch" she told him wryly.

"I know. But right now I'm more concerned with getting you checked out," he explained. He pulled her into his arms, trying to be careful with her, but needing to hold her close and safe. "I could have lost you," he whispered.

Despite the ache in her ribs, Emily squeezed him back, burying her head against his chest. "Don't let go," she pleaded.

"I won't."

* * *

One of Emily's neighbors had heard the shots and called the cops before Aaron could contact them. They had arrived in an earsplitting cadre of wailing sirens that had made her head ache. The BAU team hadn't been far behind them, receiving the information of shots fired in Emily's apartment from one of their contacts in the Alexandria police department. Emily had been interviewed and fretted over for hours before she'd been permitted to leave. The EMT's had recommended a CAT scan to check her head injury, but Emily had put her foot down, insisting that she just needed rest and a quiet room. Garcia had tried to argue with her, but Emily didn't want to go back to the hospital. After her time recuperating following Doyle's attack, hospitals were places Emily tended to avoid.

Eventually, Hotch was able to take her home and tuck her into his bed. He wanted desperately to fuss over her injuries, but knew Emily wouldn't like it. Instead, he hovered while she slept, checking her frequently. When his exhaustion overtook him, he crawled as carefully as he could into bed next to her then eased a sleeping Emily into his arms. He lay awake for a long while, relishing each breath she took and worrying what it meant for them now that Beth was no longer a threat.

When Emily woke mid-morning on Sunday, she was exhausted and sore. Her head ached, bruises had bloomed across her body, and she was sporting an amazing black eye. But she was alive and her injuries reminded her of that. Hotch snored lightly next to her causing her to smile. She tried to snuggle closer to him, but the movement shot pain through her body and she cringed. Her quiet noise startled Hotch awake.

"Emily? What's wrong? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"No, Hotch," she gasped. "I'm alright, I promise. I'm just sore."

"Do you need anything?"

"Help me sit up, please," she requested.

Hotch eased her slowly into a sitting position. "How's that?"

"Better, it doesn't hurt so much."

"Liar."

Emily huffed out a small laugh at the accusation. "Maybe a little," she admitted.

"Em…"

"What is it, Hotch?"

"I…" he didn't know how to say it to her.

"Hotch, I'm OK. Really. It isn't anything that won't heal," she told him, reaching up to cradle his face in her palms.

Emily's total focus on comforting him broke Hotch. Without thinking, he jerked her into his lap, crushing her to his chest in a tight hug. "Oh god, Emily. I almost lost you," he whispered gruffly as his tears broke free. "She almost took you from me."

"No, Hotch. Shhhh. Don't cry. I'm alright. I'm not going anywhere," Emily promised.

"I know you said you wanted to give us time, to give Jack an opportunity to get used to the idea of us as a couple, but I don't think I can do that, Emily. I need you too much," he confessed.

"Aaron…"

"No, please hear me out. I don't want you to go. I don't think I can let you leave. When I came through the door… Emily, I was so worried you'd be gone again, but this time you wouldn't come back. I want you to stay with me, with me and Jack. I don't know how we'll work this out with our jobs, but I know that we can. Please, Emily. Please say you'll stay with me, that we don't have to do this half way."

She stroked the tears away from his face, "OK," she whispered. "I love you, Hotch. I'm still worried about what Jack will think, and the team, but I don't want to be without you either."

"So you'll stay?"

"Yes, I'll stay," she said smiling.

Hotch was leaning in for a kiss when he heard the front door open.

"Dad!" Jack called from the door. "I'm back!"

"I'm in my bedroom, Jack!" Hotch answered. He looked at Emily, "I guess we're going to start our explanations sooner than expected. Are you ready?"

"Yes," Emily said. She was obviously nervous, but she knew this was a step they had to take if they wanted to be together.

Jack ran through the door expecting only his father. When he caught sight of Emily, he froze.

"Emily?" the boy asked, obviously taken aback by her presence. When he got a good look at her face, his little mouth fell open. "What happened to you?"

Emily looked over at Hotch. This was the one thing they hadn't discussed. What were they going to tell Jack about Beth? "It was a bad guy at work," she told him briefly.

"The bad guy hurt you? Did you catch him?"

"Yeah, buddy, Emily caught the bad guy," Hotch reassured his son.

"Is that why you're in Daddy's bed? Is he making you all better?" Jack asked innocently.

Emily bit her lip. He certainly was… although probably not in the way Jack meant. "Yes, sweetie, he is."

"Come here, buddy," Hotch said, gesturing for Jack to climb into the bed with them. When his son was tucked in his lap, Hotch ran his hand over the boy's sandy hair and thought about how much Jack looked like his mother. "There's something Emily and I want to talk to you about," Hotch told him, taking Emily's hand.

* * *

Fin


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